


Two Characters Encounter Alternate Versions of Themselves Doing Things and Then Proceed to Build up Amounts of UST Before Getting Over Themselves and Getting Their Acts Together.

by Lispet



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Dream Bubbles, FTM Dave, Face-Sitting, Masturbation, Nookworms, Oral Sex, Other, Quadrant Vacillation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lispet/pseuds/Lispet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of taking the bait, you store your sickles in your specibus and punch him instead. He catches that too, and forces you back against the table, knocking your book clean off the top, and pressing you into it fiercely. His sword is away too. Fucking how is this your life?
</p><p>The next thing you know, his knee is between your thighs, pressing against your sheathe and nook, and you have a mouthful of Strider, pulling your hair. Your bulge tries to wriggle out, but the pressure over the sheathe is too much, and it's nearly painful but a humiliating pain and it's so perfect you moan and chitter into Dave's mouth, and he bites your lip.
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to keep this to 4 chapters, mostly because I have three written, and I want this done  
> also Karkat's way OOC I think I woobified him a bit. but 98% of this fic was written between the hours of 11pm and 3am over various nights, so IDGAF  
> More tags to come as I update~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ **I have a gievaway going on Tumblr! get your reblogs/likes in now!** ](http://lispetsketches.tumblr.com/post/98213650098/lispets-100-follower-giveaway)

**Karkat: Explain the context.**

The thing about the dream bubbles is that you run into yourself an awful lot. Some of it's enlightening, other times it's just ego filled wank, or downright awkward or even funny once the circumstances of this particular alternate timeline you's death come to light. There was a Dave that had time travelled and just as he was appearing in the past, some of the lava from under the cogs on LOHAC sloshed overboard and he was gone. Pure bad luck, but hilarious none the less. 

And then Rose refuses to admit to the existence of the version of herself that thought that alchemising a large, reptilian carnivore from the human's past had been a good idea, because it means that she was actually two seconds away from doing it herself. 

But then there's the actual, downright awkward. 

You aren't John, thank fuck. Because John is a magnanimous prick, is extremely close minded and just generally a wriggler. It doesn't even matter that he's nearly the human equivalent of eight sweeps old, and he is more than halfway through what is the very weird, long drawn out process of the human adult moult. He's still a child. 

But you, you're mature enough to understand that wanting to fuck someone is just that, wanting to fuck them. It doesn't mean you're ever going to come clean, because humans have this weird thing about sex. It's not ever something you want to get into. 

But somewhere between realising that your stupid past self pretty much fucked your chances with Terezi so hard, and finding her passed out in a puddle of slurry, sopor, and Faygo, you realised that maybe you wanted to fuck Dave. Just a little. 

Just break that cool kid facade like a sledgehammer to a window. 

There's awkward hate-flirting like that one time with Sollux, and then there's communing with Dave. And you think that the tipping point between you just thinking that he was a general douche, and you wanting to pail him into next week so hard that he wouldn't even be able to temporally distort things to make it easier on his pitiful human bulge, was about when he makes you draw six crude, cartoonish, human bulges, and then trapped you in his cape and flipped you into a desk. 

You hate that he's strong enough to pick you up with such ease, linked to the fact that he's so much bigger than you, whilst at the same time being so pitifully weak and fragile that you can scantly touch him and he bleeds under your claws. You hate that you spend more time that necessary thinking of ways to troll him properly, considering that Tavros was too pathetic to get him good from the start, to the point where enlisting the help of an alternate John is becoming incredibly appealing. 

You hate that he is so nice to you when he's there's no one around, so nice it's almost a little flushed or even pale, reaching books off high shelves from the library for you because he can fly and you can't, fuck godtier up the waste chute, or making an extra cup of human liquid stimulant, which of all the human foods you enjoy the most. He even remembers that you like it extra strong with sugar and milk. And you drink it with him, trying not to think about his lips, pink and soft, curling around the white ceramic of the mug when he sips, and it's a nice pink, not garish like Lalonde's shirt when she's not in her god tier robes, and certainly not like the pink of the tab cans. It's a gentle pink, the kind of pink you want to not admit to liking because it's almost out of the spectrum of your colour vision, heavens knows that Kanaya and the others can't see a pink this soft or light. It's just another thing your mutation offers, but at least this is a useful mutation. You've spoken to Sollux and Kanaya about it. To them Dave is a pale grey, bordering on white, with lips nearly troll skin dark, but they're pink and soft to you. 

You wonder if they're as soft as they look and then that leads to wondering how he'd kiss, would he indulge your pitch feelings and bite and scratch and tear you apart at the seams like he's practically built for it? 

Dave cleans up after himself deliberately; making sure you can see him doing it, vacuums and dusts. It's infuriating. He stares whilst he does it; he knows it peeves you so he makes a show of it for his own sadistic pleasure. 

You do the little things that annoy him in return, move all the clocks on the meteor ahead five minutes, even the one on the microwave that you spent ten minutes learning how to change for the sole purpose of pissing him off. You move his sword when he leaves it out, and you'd move his shades but if they're not on his face then he's asleep and his respite block is locked. 

You hate that he's the one to talk Terezi out of a tearful stupor and make Kanaya laugh so hard she snorts. You just. You don't even hate him. You envy him. 

You want to see him make mistakes, prove that he's fallible. Just another weak, pathetic human. White hair, too pale skin, fucking mutant. And wow that one hit a little too close to home. 

Terezi can smell the bubbles before they hit, but sometimes, when they come in rapid succession, there is no warning for the next one. Just three seconds of bleak metal and nutrition block and transportaliser and _Dave_ before the next one engulfs you, and you grab his hand before the bubble rips the two of you apart again because you don't want to have to face Kankri alone. You don't quite hate your current, past or future self enough to impart that upon yourself again. 

You do hate Dave enough to willingly force the experience upon him, however. 

~~[---]~~ 

**Karkat: Enter the Bubble.**

The landscape unfolds around you, piece by piece, falling from the sky, almost guided by streaks of white light until it stops shimmering and shifting vaguely and settles into grey suburban, dry heat, concrete everywhere. 

You let go of Dave, but he doesn't let go of you. 

"Hell to the no dude, you dragged me into this." Dave doesn't even smirk, just laces your fingers together. "I'm stuck to you like white on rice." 

You have no idea what rice is, but you don't argue. You've learnt how stubborn this fucker is. "Where are we?" 

"Houston, Texas." Dave points to a tall hivestem about a hundred meters away. "That's my place." 

"The whole thing or?" You don't know what answer you're expecting, for him to say 'yeah, that's Casa de Strider', or for him to look at you like you're crazy and clarify. 

"Nah just the top floor." That's still a lot of space. "This ain't my memory though." 

"Oh great, just what I need. Another Dave." 

"You're in here too." 

Well you weren't expecting that. "What gave that away? Did you finally grow gander bulbs?" 

Dave finally smirks. "Nah dude, Texas is hot, but this is some Alternia-tier shit. Also earth only has one moon, and it's grey. Oh and I just stopped time and flew around a bit to check. You're here. It's us. We're alone. With ourselves." 

You look at him deadpan, you definitely don't believe that he's done that, but if you try to call him on it you know you'll sound stupid because it's not like it's within the realm of possibility. He waggles his eyebrows over his shades. 

You glance up and away from him, and surely enough there are two moons, familiar green and pink, backdropped in pale blue with a yellow sun high overhead. "Huh." That's interesting. The yellow sun is a lot more appealing than the red giant from your home world, cooler supposedly, it's far gentler in terms of lux and earth's atmosphere is so much better in the filtering of light, less infrared and more UV. It's actually quite pretty. 

"Looks like it's the best of both worlds." Dave jokes. "C'mon, it's way to fucking hot to stand around. There's a pool just around the corner. It's usually packed in summer, but it's just us here." 

"Us and our alternate selves." You growl. You don't know if you're prepared to meet yourself, and it turns out that you're definitely not, nor do you really want to, because wow that's perhaps one of the worse sights you've ever seen. You need bleach and matches, stat. 

"Wow." Dave drops your hand the moment you round the corner, and you can see the chain link fence surrounding the water filled depression in the ground, which has a large piece of cloth stretched over the top, providing a shady, cool area. You want to get in there right now, but the alternate Dave and Karkat are already neck deep in water, clearly making the best of the hot weather, because if the weather in the dream bubble is like Alternia's weather, not just the heat, then it's going to get very cold and wet in the next few days. 

You're not transfixed by much these days, not since the game blew every concept of 'normal' and 'weird' clean out of your pan, but this is something else. 

It's way too embarrassing, even more embarrassing to admit that it makes the metaphors in your head mash up and you suddenly learn that Dave kisses rough and soft all at once, or at least some part of him does. He holds the alternate you so tightly your skin pales under his fingertips, but without claws it's a mostly symbolic gesture. He bites at alternate-you’s lips with short sharp nips, that he immediately sweeps his pink tongue over, and then he presses their foreheads together in a blatant display of trust that is also symbolic because your horns are and always will be nubby little things, the knowledge sucker punches you in the gut, and alternate Dave is backing alternate you against the edge of the pool, and it's the shallow end because they rise out of the water until the Karkat is sitting on the lip with water lapping at his arse and wow okay they're naked that's a development. 

You are resoundingly unsurprised. With eternity and a day in nothing but your memories, and you happen to land in a good hot Alternia/Earth 2x combo afternoon, there's no way you'd be leaving a single article of clothing on. This Dave even has his shades off. 

You wonder why you're not naked and in the water too, because Dave's sweating next to you even if he's completely stony faced, and you're just about boiling in your shell. Oh that's right, you can only clench your fingers in the chain link fence and watch, like its a goddamned bomb going off, as the other Dave crowds closer to the other you and he fucking spreads his legs for him Jesus fuck this is entirely inappropriate you cannot deal abort mission abort mission code red were off the deep end, captain. You think your bulge is unsheathing a little in response to the second hand arousal. 

Today is not your day. You'd give anything to be able to tear your eyes away from the crime scene before you, and it looks like one because the Dave presses the Karkat back until he's laying spread eagle and candy red genetic fluid is seeping slowly into the water, and it looks like the other you has been sawn in half almost, except you're too... serene almost, totally blissed out and almost happy and that's something you wish could be true, and then he arches his back and nearly sits bolt upright when the Dave gets even closer and god they're actually pailing you don't know if you envy or hate that alternate version of you, but you're feeling pretty fucking black for him right now, and if the wall of completely see through mesh metal wasn't stopping you, you might have decaptchalogued a sickle right into his neck. For allowing himself to be so vulnerable, if anything. Your fingers itch to be around the handle of your weapons. It might make you feel better. 

Your strife specious remains very locked. You wish your sheathe had the same function. 

You thought that Dave would fuck like he fights at the very least, but whilst the pace he sets is hard and fast, borderline brutal, there's almost subtle overtones of tenderness and care, Dave, the real one, standing next to you, shit Dave's right next to you watching an alternate him fuck an alternate you, and you'd glance up at him if you could stand to look away from the scene before you. He hasn't moved an inch though so he's in the same boat. 

Not-Dave, because he's not the real Dave no way, touches not-you's (because you're right here for fuck's sakes) gill slits along his ribs with such care and you can feel yours try to flutter against the tight binder you use to keep them firmly sealed. They're not completely useless, but they're nowhere near as efficient as an actual sea-dweller's gills. They're too small and you lack the auxiliary water influx gills on your neck, leaving you with one input to two output gills on each side. 

Alternate you's gills are still fluttering specks of water from them, even as not-Dave teases them with the pad of his thumb and his littlest finger threatens to slip under them at the deepest point and some horrible noise comes out of your throat even as alternate you trills high and long in unadulterated delight, followed by a series of clicks. You clamp the noise down and stop it before it drops down into a pitch Dave can hear. 

And then there's the way that not-Dave makes every effort to keep their foreheads together, and touch not-you's hornbeds with practiced hands and they're keeping eye contact the whole time and it's so fucking flushed you're almost embarrassed for them, even as your blood pusher aches a little, because there is, and there always was, the potential for things to be perfect for you, but you just know that future you is going to fuck it up epically. This right here is proof that things could possibly be okay. You almost wish you were this Karkat because his life is so easy, not the tumultuous hoofbeast shit and worthless emotions you deal with on a day-to-day basis. 

You finally manage to move, to look away, before they start reciting fucking age-old promises in Alternian, or some shit like that. 

You literally wouldn't be able to even. 

You look at your Dave instead, and he's still watching them, unable to appreciate how private and sacred this act is, uncultured swine, you want to punch him as much as you want to give a repeat performance to what's going on the water not a chain from you. He's watching them the same way he watches Rose and Kanaya read books together whilst Rose is learning Alternian. 

It's a detached level of curiosity that makes you so fucking mad. 

You don't know why you've kept your mouth shut for so long, oh wait you don't want to alert yourself to the fact that your perving on yourself fucking your vacillating crush. That's right. 

Wow how fucking stupid. 

But worse of all is that Dave doesn't seem to care that much. He's totally static in his appraisal, and you wish he'd at least have some kind of reaction to the sight; even horror would be nice because now it looks like the alternate Karkat has actually been murdered because there's that much generic fluid in the water. Call the subjugglators; a Dave Strider just fucked a Karkat Vantas to death. But there's nothing, not a twitch not a smirk. You just want to know if he approves at all, or even of he's totally repulsed by all of this because your life would become so much fucking easier it's not a laughing matter. 

Maybe this version of you and Dave are only doing this because they saw the rest of eternity stuck in the same dream bubble, alone, and thought 'well we might as well pass the time somehow'. 

You look around desperately for something, anything to distract you because you don't know how to broach leaving right the fuck now, so you're probably here until one of them sees you or the bubble ends. You don't know which one you want more, probably the latter. You spot Dave's clothes first, his bright red godtier clothes, and that's how you nearly miss not-your clothing because you're looking for black and grey, not the almost black maroon of the Blood class robes. 

Oh god that's why this version of you can be so relaxed. You suspect that ninety percent of the reasons you hate Dave so much is because he's constantly in a position of power over you, even if it's not brute strength. He can fly, he can stop time, he can fucking sweet talk his way out of an argument with Kanaya, and now he knows that you've got pathetic little gills and that you're gross and so fucking red and slimy you can see it yourself, you live it yourself and you're disgusted. But it's deeper than that. It's more than that he is better than you, it's that he doesn't make a big deal about it. He doesn't pick you apart or scorn you or act like he's better than you even though he literally is in every way. 

And you hate him for it. 

You want to knock him down a peg or two, but you’re just not strong enough. You want him to see you as an equal and to treat you like one. If you can beat him just once in strife, you think you might achieve that. 

But if you were god tier alongside him, there would still be things to hate him about, he's an arse for one, but he'd have nothing to flaunt at you like his powers or his flight or any of that. You'd be so flushed for this guy if you were godtier or he wasn't, it's just right now, under these specific circumstances, your feelings for him have manifested in a very pitch way. 

You want to split him open and devour him from the inside out, find out what makes him tick and stuff it away behind your sternum because it's a precious thing and your sternum is so much denser and tougher than Dave's. 

You look back to the alternate versions of yourself, and not-you is still flat on his back, and not-Dave is trying to pry his arm from over his eyes, and it falls away easily, and not-Dave is pressing his pink lips to not-your shoulders, clavicles, nibbling gently, and the hands are back at the gills, feathering through the membranes like they're made of spun fucking glass, and you can hear him talking low and rough, but only the cadence and timbre of his voice not the actual words not from this distance, but it's all too fucking sweet your teeth hurt. 

You think you're going to puke rainbows in a second this is just disgusting. 

Dave next to you, real Dave, lifts his hand free of the fence and brings it to his face, and you think he's just adjusting his shades which yeah cool whatever, but then before you register what he's doing, too focused on the fact that his mouth is slightly open and his thumb and forefinger are pressing into his lips and fuck that's a bad sight your bulge is literally squirming inside your pants fuck your life fuck it so hard Dave shouldn't look so fucking pretty when he does that he's a squishy pink and white alien meat sack you should be eating him for lunch or something. 

So you don't stop him because you might possibly be thinking about his lips pressed to your hipbone, and he whistles in two short sharp bursts and you are fucking mortified because that is an attention grabbing sound and you accidentally knock two cans and a book out of your sylladex and they clatter against the mesh fence loudly before alternate-Dave can even look up, and look up he does, just as alternate-you tips his head back to look. Not-Dave is completely wiped of the almost smile he had moments ago, and his eyes are piercing red like your blood it's just the same hue this is going to kill you this knowledge. At least not-you has enough sense of mind to blush and push at his Dave's shoulder and grouse at him, but not-Dave just places his palms over not-you's gills and smirks like he fucking knew you were there. He knew the whole fucking time and didn't do anything or say anything and you hate Dave so fucking much. 

Not-Dave snaps his hips forward once and that shuts not-you up, and he's going again, leaning back down to lay himself over not-you, face pressed tight into his neck. 

Oh god why? You were meant to see this but what was even the point? Have these two even come across another timeline you and Dave? Is this a common occurrence or is this the only instance where you and Dave are spending eternity and a day together? Maybe it hasn't occurred to this Dave that you, the Alpha copies, aren't like this, not one bit. Maybe that's why it's not embarrassing to them. This Dave probably realises how aroused you are, because he keeps glancing up and it's killing you how red his eyes are this just isn't fair why hasn't your Dave told you this? He knows about your blood and he knows what it means. He should know that you wouldn't hate him more for having mutant eyes, just like yours will be one day. Of course now you do because he never fucking mentioned it. 

But honestly, you've never seen yourself this tender before. Not-you is getting pailed to within an inch of his life, but he's still making an effort to be gentle when he lifts his hand and cups it around not-Dave's jaw, bringing his gaze firmly to his own eyes, and you can hear the low warble rising from his thoracic cavity, nearly at the bottom of your vocal range, far too low for either Dave to hear, but loud enough to be felt no doubt. You can't replicate the sound right now, not with your binder holding your gills flat and your ribs tight, you just can't sing that deep, but you want to, the urge is overwhelming, instinct, purely. 

The sound that comes out instead isn't subsonic for the humans, and you're practically vibrating, and you try your best to shut the fuck up because this is just embarrassing you know yourself well enough you can see not-you is seconds away from coming, and god how is Dave just standing there impassively, just fucking watching because this is really fucking important, he's not even reacting to the aborted half bleats you keep crooning out to not-you, fucking god you're encouraging them and so just want to stop because you shouldn't be. 

The dream bubble rips itself apart abruptly and the meteor is a nice dark safe place and Dave is still next to you and he hardly flinched and you're practically falling apart, buzzing violently and making noises like a dying animal this isn't fair why you why couldn't you just go to a memory where Kankri was there to lecture you and Sollux is on the other side of the nutrition block, flushed on the ears and nose like he's just come from somewhere really cold, and Terezi is right next to him exactly the same, and they both must smell the sex on you and they can hear the sounds you're making, because Terezi croons right back at you, sympathetic and a little mocking, and Sollux laughs even as he starts warbling sub-vocally and wow that's a sex sound is Sollux _propositioning you_? 

Hell to the no. 

Just because you're emitting pheromones like they're going out of fashion and you can't get your bulge to retract doesn't mean you're just going to sit on any troll's bulge. 

You look at Dave properly for the first time since dragging him into the dream bubble and he's still fucking impassive except for a slight frown like he's trying to figure out what the sounds you and Terezi and Sollux are making because you just hissed at him and he clicked back and Terezi hasn't stopped crooning and you don't need words to convey a 'go fuck yourself' that's universal body language. 

You just turn and leave because you just lost the ability to can. 

Also you don't think you can keep looking at Dave without doing something stupid or whatever. Like punching him. Or accidentally falling on his weird human dick. You need to gather your wits and approach this like a sensible troll. You can't handle it right now. 

Also also you need to shove something into your nook like yesterday. 

The transportaliser zaps you to the sleeping quarters and you lock yourself in your room, and you chose the one right at the end so you didn't get pissed off when Sollux wanders around at all hours of the day, or when Dave wanted to flirt with Terezi and she'd end up cackling like a fucking witch and you just didn't need to hear that shit. It's also something you don't want to think about because it makes you hate Dave more. It's one thing more he can do but you can't. 

You double check to make sure that your room is most definitely locked before stripping your sweater off and then the shirt underneath it. Your shoes and socks go in the same way, very quickly and it's almost a relief to slide your pants and underwear over your hips. You're slightly grossed out by the vibrant colour of your bulge, and the genetic fluid that's making it shine in the dim lighting, but there's not really time or the pressing need to think about that. Just the feeling of letting it curl around your wrist is a fucking delight. 

You're not doing this in the trap, mainly because it's a public space even though it makes cleaning up so much easier where you can just spray genetic material off the floor and down the drain, but that's not the point it's a place where anyone and their lusus could walk in on you, but you don't want this to be messy, so you walk over to the recooperoon that Rose and Kanaya managed to alchemise sopor for, (now all the trolls have one and it's wonderful to have green slimy goo to sleep in again), but more importantly, you press your toe into one of the nodes near the base and the whole thing seems to convulse slightly before settling, and you splash your fingers on the surface until something bumps against your palm. You grab it and pull it out.  
Nookworms always freaked you the fuck out. This one is pale blue and fleshy and you're pretty sure Kanaya gave it to you in an attempt at human irony, as a cultural exchange thing. You don't even want to think about where she got it. Maybe the appearifier? But nookworms keep masturbation as a pail free experience, mostly because they eat genetic material and then they must send it to another dimension or turn it to sopor or water or something because they never grow and they never need emptying unless you intend to use them more than once a day, and they just live in a cage at the bottom of your recooperoon quite happily, or a tank of water if you don't mind showing your guests that you're a perverted fuck. 

You sit your arse down in your pile, a conglomeration of cushions, movie cases and there's a horn or six in there from before Gamzee went off to fuck knows where, you could really use him right now, a moirail would be a great person to talk your vacillating feelings through with. 

So you sit down and hold the nookworm at arms length and place it between your legs, and it doesn't have any eyes or a nose or what ever but it turns towards the apex of your legs and makes a beeline for your nook and that's just freaky. It must spend a few good minutes just nosing around the rim of your sheathe where the skin is stretched tight above the entrance of your nook and you nearly grab it the first few times to stop it because you think it might try to wriggle in there but no, it's just lapping up genetic fluid which you're glad about. Some trolls are into sheathe stuffing but wow that's a little too much for you. It finishes with your bulge sheathe and doesn't hesitate to bury itself in your nook up to the second segment, and you do grab the feelers on its tail before it burrows right into and through you and that would be going a little too quick there hasn't been anything your nook since the last time you put this stupid little grub in there which was about a week after Kanaya gave it to you because you were curious. But it's been perigees since then and you are definitely not prepared to let that thing submerge itself fully in genetic fluid until you can stop freaking out about letting a living breathing thing in there in the first place. 

You've got one hand wrapped around the tendrils that make the worm's tail and the other has your bulge wrapped around it so you coax your bulge to wrap around the nookworm so your bulge can keep good control of it. It's really fucking handy having prehensile genitalia. It's slick and pulses slightly under your bulge, and once the feelers detangle from around your fingers, they wrap around your bulge and squeeze slowly before relaxing and clenching again. Your chest aches a little because you're trying to hum in pleasure and your binder is still clenching your thorax together and completely still. You don't have the presence of mind to undo the zipper of the binder, your claws make an absolute ruin of it and the rush of air over your gills as you thumb them open and encourage the filaments out one by one makes your nook clamp down on the worm so hard it actually squeaks a little. Your mouth drops open and you make some god-awful squeak because the worm manages to wriggle into your nook by another segment and it's stretching the lips of your nook to an almost uncomfortable degree, but fuck if it doesn't feel good. 

You haven't really felt the urge to get off in perigees, and if you ever did it was never made apparent to you because you were too busy spitting spades at Dave or fighting or nearly dying. 

You didn't realise or remember how fucking good it felt though, your spine is pretty much an electrical conduit for pleasure, and it jabs from your nook to your pan in pulses that nearly hurt they're so intense. You make an effort to slow the nookworm down, even though your body screams for you to just let it force its way in so it can rub against your seed flap, which is more of a sphincter it's got a stupid name and you have never been able to get over that, but you're not a total idiot, you'd probably pass out the moment it worked its tongue over the muscle for more than two seconds. 

You're fucking aroused, borderline desperate, but trolls can't just rub one out, you're not built like that. You need hands on your body, and you can take the feeling yourself up in two different directions, either gentle and soothing, or a little bit brutal. You really need someone else there, honestly, so they can touch you in the way your quadrant dictates. 

Your first choice is Dave, no doubts. And you know exactly how he'd take this. As humiliating and painful as possible. 

The very thought has your gills flaring out from your skin, still bone dry, in excitement. You pinch the middle gill on your left side and you practically shriek in response. Your bulge allows the nookworm to plunge right into your nook all at once and you roll over awkwardly so you can shove your face into a pillow. You probably sound like you're dying and it almost feels like it too, your gill filaments are still between your fingers and they are a bright spark of pain, and you reach your other hand up to dig your nails into your hornbed and get a grip in your hair so you can pretend that Dave's shoving your face into the cushion to shut you up. 

It's totally something he'd do, you think. 

The nookworm is shoving right up against your seedflap, and it is going to break you in a minute, it doesn't even matter than your bulge isn't even getting in on the action, because that little worm is relentless and you've done enough research about human anatomy to know that Dave's dick would do exactly that, maybe not exactly that, but it wouldn't thrash in you like a bugle, it'd be able to press right up against your seedflap and stay there, and you push your face harder into the cushion. 

It's very easy to imagine Dave kneeling between your thighs, with his hands on your gills, threatening to push inside and turn you inside out. He'd fuck you like you were a human, regardless of how humiliating it is to be mounted like some common barkbeast as you are right now, on your spread knees with your face in the pile. He'd say lewd things and laugh at you when you'd try to kick him off, and just fuck harder. Your fluid would drip down your legs and splash when he thrusts into you, leaving thighs splattered, yours and his. 

He'd probably not even offer you the dignity of a pail. He'd let you just ruin the pile with your mutant fluids, forcing you to trill and make pretty noises because you're noisy as fuck all the time you don't doubt that sex, no you definitely don't doubt that sex would be any different, because you're already chirruping and making all kinds of embarrassing noises, before using you as his pail, even though humans have so little fluid that they don't need one, and he's still nudging up against your seedflap, hand tight over your gills like it might stop you from breathing when really it's his hand in your hair holding tightly onto your right horn, shoving it into a cushion that has you short of breath. 

Something thin and long breaches your seedflap and it's only a movie case pressing into your lips that you bite down on, hard enough to crack, that muffled your scream of his name when you come. 

It's a weird feeling, with the nookworm there to guzzle the genetic fluid that should be gushing out of your seedflap, and by extension your nook, but it relaxes once you finish making pathetic noises and it's easy to pull out because your nook is so relaxed and loose (that feels so vulgar to think of it like that but it is), and you make yourself get up to drop the grub into the 'coon before you collapse onto the pile again. You don't even have the energy to shove your gill filaments back into the he slits so you can find a spare binder to close them all up with again. There's no health reason you do it, it's just because they make you feel like even more of a fucking mutant that you already are with the pressing knowledge of your weird body temperature and your fucking red blood and stubby little horns. 

You lay on your back for a little while in your post-orgasmic haze, debating the merits of sleeping versus showering whilst your bulge takes its time retracting, and you feel a little lonely and cold, because for a few moments there you had yourself convinced that Dave was actually fucking you in a totally pitch way. 

You're not as freaked out by this realisation as you probably should be. You always knew you wanted to fuck him, and now you know that there is an alternate version of you that is. 

(You end up sleeping.)


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hear Kanaya choke as you leave. "Ah Dave," she begins, "you might want to sit down for the next part." You abscond before you hear the rest of that. You're slightly mortified because you just issued him an ambiguous concupiscent challenge and he has no idea what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ahve a giveaway going on tumblr! Free art! http://lispetsketches.tumblr.com/post/96153585443/lispets-100-follower-giveaway

**Karkat: As you are asleep, and the story needs telling, be Dave.**

Dave is currently indisposed with a one-man fireworks show. Please leave a message after the tone. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Dave: Be Karkat in the future.**

Future Karkat is freaking the fuck out. Try Dave again. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Future Karkat: Try Dave again.**

You pinch the bridge of your nose and wonder if there's ever an appropriate way of telling Karkat you heard him jerking it, because spoilers, he probably forgot that you actually took the room opposite his. 

The kid makes nice sounds, you have to give him that, but you'd meant to talk to him after what you both saw in the dream bubble, but he's as immature as John, and has been locked soundly in his room for a few good hours. You followed him, and he hadn't noticed you, but he slammed the door just about in your face and it had clicked locked resoundingly. You could break the door down, or just hop the timeline back a little and beat him into his own room, but you won’t. 

You're a jerk but you're not that rude. 

That has given you good time to think about what you're going to say to him, even if each iteration of your speech is getting progressively lamer and lamer. 

You wonder when you lost your Strider cool, and decide it was probably when you realised during a feelings jam with Terezi that maybe you like Karkat a little more than you should. She was surprisingly okay with it. Apparently she had been waiting for you to 'wake up and smell the red chalk'. You love your alien-ex-girlfriend. 

You also suspect that the red chalk was a surprisingly good metaphor. Karkat getting fucked in the pool looked a lot like a post strife rooftop. But with more water and sex. 

You sort of envy the Dave in the bubble, he could do anything his imagination would let him, with the sandbox environment.   
But that is exposition for later. 

For now, you should be Karkat again. He might have calmed down a bit. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Dave: Be the calmed down Karkat.**

Okay. 

You can fucking do this. 

You think. 

You just have to pretend that you didn't come out of the last bubble as horny as a hopbeast during mating season, and act like a fucking adult. So that's what you do. You get a towel, you walk to the ablution block, you wash yourself, and then you put a clean binder and underwear and pants and shoes and socks and a shirt and a sweater and march your arse to the nutrition block, because you need to rehydrate and eat something, you just ejected like four litres of genetic fluid, you need to get some water into your system, even though you must've drank about a litre in the shower. 

To your absolute horror, Dave is in the nutrition block, seemingly thoughtful as he chews on an apple. You skirt around him and the table and get some leftover grubloaf out of the thermal hull. It's a little dry, but you scarf it down pretty quickly. 

It turns out that Dave is talking to Rose and Kanaya, who more often than not come as a pair now. As you eat, and then pause to virtually drink straight from the tap (by this point you're pretty sure Kanaya knows exactly what's up), you start to tune into their conversation properly. Rose is in fits of laughter, and Kanaya's hiding her smile behind her hand politely, whilst Dave articulates the finer points of his tale. 

And oh fuck that's not a good story right there. 

"And he's making these weird as fuck noises, Kanaya you've gotta give me a cheat sheet to weird alien noises please," Dave only uses Kanaya's full name because she promised him under no uncertain terms, that she'd bleed him dry if he called her 'Kan' one more time, "but he kept clicking and sort of moaning and I swear," Dave looks over at you and lifts his hand in a loose fist, the hand that isn't holding the apple, and shakes it a few times. Rose positively howls, "he couldn't get away fast enough." Dave waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you're about to snap in t-minus thirty seconds and counting. "I mean I know I'm fucking hot but that was overkill man, also I'm a little offended you didn't offer to let me jump on the one way train to orgasm town. It sounded like a load of fun." 

You swallow pointedly after making sure that there are no little chunks of grubloaf stuck between your teeth, and close your eyes and take a deep breath. You're pitch for Strider, and that is not grounds to cull him. That is grounds to want to shove his face between your legs and make him suffocate on your nook or choke on your genetic fluids. 

"Dave," you say calmly. You're totally calm. "I fail to comprehend how you completely missed the numerous memos, in all of their technicolour glory, where I'm reasonably confident that I have issued the desire to disembowel you and serve you to the others as a main fucking course." You are the calmest motherfucker in the veil. You're not yelling, how much calmer can you get? "Those two people were not us, and there must be something rotting in your pan for you to not realise that." You're yelling now. 

Okay you're not as calm as you are supposed to be and you never were. So sue you, call Terezi, the legislacerators can lock you up and throw away the key, you're off the fucking rails here. "I don't know what the fuck that version of me was thinking, or if the heat had addled his pan, but I do not feel that way for you. Or did you miss the look of absolute dumbfounded disappointment on my face?" 

Dave is totally stoic, he's not smirking anymore. Good. You've stopped him from embarrassing you even further. He just kind of shrugs and holds his palm out just as he decaptchalogues a music player, and plugs it into his ears. "Whatever, man." He turns his music on, and it's probably down low enough that he can still hear what anyone has to say, but you can still hear it vaguely, there's a steady beat and complex rhythms and tunes overlaid, and he turns and walks over to the other side of the room so he can flop down on the couch. He sits there and his face is turned towards you and Rose and Kanaya, and Dave's foot is twitching along to the beat, you presume because he's too far away to hear the music. 

He's still looking at you and the sudden recollection that his eyes are blood red under those shades sucker punches you in the gut. You huff and don't even think about the chatter-cum-crow that resonates from your throat, easily loud enough for Dave to hear even with his music, and you hear Kanaya choke as you leave. 

"Ah Dave," she begins, "you might want to sit down for the next part." You abscond before you hear the rest of that. You're slightly mortified because you just issued him an ambiguous concupiscent challenge and he has no idea what it was. 

_You_ have no idea what it was. 

It was pitch but then you remembered the alternate Dave and how he handled not-you with all the care in the world and you decided that you wanted a piece of that. 

Fuck. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Karkat: Be the angry one.**

You already are the angry one, except the angry one is less angry and more sad. Or irritated. With yourself. 

You're pretty certain that your declaration to Dave back there in the nutrition block just destroyed any concupiscent chances you had with him in two seconds flat, slim though they were to begin with. And you grew the globes to fucking proposition him publicly. What. The. Fuck. You'd find it easier to stomach if it had just been Rose there, but Kanaya was there too and she could hear the full range of sounds you were making and she was already half way to explaining to Dave what the fuck was going on before you had even left the room. 

All you can really remember is the flat set of Dave's mouth and the even flatter words that fell flat out of his mouth. 'Whatever, man', wave, good fucking bye Dave Strider. 

God you should've just not gone into the nutrition block when you saw him there, let him finish his story and then gotten food, your dignity and health be damned. It just wasn't worth it to cut him down like that. 

You really had been expecting him to make a joke of it of course. He doesn't joke about things he is serious about, like his music. He puts it on a pedestal and protects it and guards it carefully, and you don't even know why you thought for a moment that there might have been a chance with him, because he's nice to you sometimes, in his strange way, but he never treated you like you might be something more than 'bros', Dave's word entirely. 

Self hate is an easy thing for you, considering the sweeps of constant fear and caution because of who you were born as, and self loathing for you is often expressed in how you treat your social inputs, making you snappier and angrier than normal, and seeing the hurt and offended looks on your friends' faces makes you hate yourself more for being a total jerk to them and you get angrier and less hospitable and it's a never ending spiral, and you have never needed Gamzee more in your life. 

You should dump him, because he's being a terrible moirail for not being around right now, when you need him most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry sorry short filler but I said to myself "Only one chapter a day, just behave yourself" and I'm nearly done with the last chapter. But the next one's gratuitous porn and loaded with headcanons so yea


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lets go of your skull and you prop yourself up to glance around. Somehow you knocked the table over and with it the fruit bowl, which is laying in about fifty pieces all over the floor between the thermal hull and the bench, which hangs out from the wall, making the nutrition preparation area a space that's enclosed on three sides.
> 
> Dave gets off you mostly, but leaves one foot planted squarely in your lower back, and the other on the floor between your legs, rubbing against your nook. Your bulge has room to move now and it's already squirmed out, leaving the exterior of your bone sheathe a sticky mess as well as the interior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol throws headcanons in your face  
> I need to update the tags but I'm in public so nope you'll have to wait for a few hours  
> just temporary tags for mentions of body dysphoria, self harm, actual sex stuff I think that's it

**Karkat: Be where this all started.**

You are in the nutrition block, which used to be a nice neutral space for everyone, but since the dream bubble plucked Dave and you from here and made for Awkward Fun Time Central, it's a little more hostile and difficult to spend time in here. 

Rose and Kanaya like to spend their time in the library now, Terezi leaves for days on end and comes back a little twitchy and eager to laugh at any stupid little thing, Mayor never leaves Can Town, Sollux alternates between week long stints on his husktop and days spent exploring the meteor, which leaves you and Dave to circle around each other like a pair of wrigglers. 

It's possible that you're the only one acting like a wriggler, because Dave still does everything like he used to, fetching books for you and making liquid stimulant, but it isn't the same as before, and maybe this is his revenge, by dropping books from the top shelf into your hands instead of placing them there so carefully you hardly feel it, or the liquid stimulant, he offers the mug to you like there's nothing wrong, with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle and your fingers brush, but then you sip it and it's not right, it's too weak or there's no sugar or too much sugar or it's nearly tepid. 

Oh god you hate your past self so much for fucking the one good thing in your life up, because really that's what Dave was. He was the only constant and you miss the time spent which him, the subtle jabs and listening him try to skew conversations into some 'totally illegal beats', or watching movies with him that used to mean so much to you but after the game put things into perspective for you, it's all so stupid and petty. There aren't enough trolls left alive for it to be feasible, so you ended up watching human movies where it was a lot simpler, with one quadrant and one pair. They're desperately boring, but so much more relatable. 

**Karkat: Don't get side-tracked.**

Oh, right, so you're in the nutrition block reading, and Dave is stretched out on the couch, being a total prick and refusing to move because he's comfy, and he apparently can't feel the anger that is apparently so strong Terezi actually baulks when she walks into the room. 

"What up, 'Rez?" Dave hollers. He's listening to his music again, and Terezi takes a good long sniff before going to the thermal hull with a sharkish grin that you do not trust at all. She can probably smell your feelings. 

"Nothing much. I was helping Mayor lay down some laws for Can Town." She decides against anything from the thermal hull and sticks her head in the pantry instead. She pulls out a bag of grubcrisps and opens the packet to shove some in her mouth. 

"Sounds cool." Dave says, before going back to his nonchalant music listening. You ruffle your book to make a point. You were here first and they should shut up. 

"Jeez Karkat," Terezi stands behind you and leans her pointy elbow into your shoulder. It fucking hurts, "you've been so tense lately, I can smell it on you. You should lighten up!" She laughs obnoxiously in your ear, and you shove her off you, lose the page in your book and stand all at once. 

She's taller than you, but skinnier, and your sickles drop out of your specibus before you even realise exactly how angry you are or how far you're actually willing to take this. 

You realise the latter when you swing the sickles at her neck, and Dave's abruptly in your face, the clang from where his sword stopped your dual weapons still ringing out across the room almost too loudly. 

"What the fuck is your problem, Vantas?" 

"Nothing that Terezi can't handle herself!" 

And those are the first words you've spoken to each other in a perigee. 

Terezi looks from you to Dave and back again, and leaves with a cheerful wave and her bag of grubcrisps. Bitch. She fucking planned this. 

"Seriously Vantas, something's been shoved up your arse for the last six weeks and I want to know what." 

You nearly correct him and give him the answer, because you've spent probably way too much time with your nookworm up where it belongs lately. Not that it's really contributing to the animal's health. Genetic fluid takes time to build up. You can get off but you probably don't even need the worm right now. You'd be lucky to get a cup or two of fluid a day. "None of your fucking business, _Strider_." You snap at his face with your teeth and you're already making chirruping sounds. You are an embarrassment to the empire. Dave cocks his head like he's thinking and pushes on your sickles with his sword, almost in a dare. 

Instead of taking the bait, you store them in your specibus and punch him instead. He catches that too, and forces you back against the table, knocking your book clean off the top, and pressing you into it fiercely. His sword is away too. Fucking how is this your life? 

The next thing you know, his knee is between your thighs, pressing against your sheathe and nook, and you have a mouthful of Strider, pulling your hair. Your bulge tries to wriggle out, but the pressure over the sheathe is too much, and it's nearly painful but a humiliating pain and it's so perfect you moan and chitter into Dave's mouth, and he bites your lip. 

"What did that one mean?" He asks, even as he digs his fingers into the skin just around the base of your horns, and his knee presses harder against your sheathe. The chittering increases in volume and drops in pitch until it becomes difficult to continue with your chest bound. "I'm serious Kanaya didn't put that one on the list." 

"Means I'm going to eat your liver." You gasp angrily. "Turn it into fucking pâté and it'll go real nice with crackers." It not that, it's a sex sound, you doubt Kanaya would've included it in her 'Alien Sounds for ~~Dave~~ Dummies, the Abridged Version'. 

He's taking advantage of you, so you try to turn the tables a little and your claws sink through his godtier shirt under the cloak easily and you think you've pierced skin because he hisses back at you through his teeth and mashes your lips together brutally. 

You make a point of shoving him away and then launching yourself after him and the ensuing scuffle on the rug on the floor before the couch lasts nearly ten minutes, and somehow he manages to keep his shades and his cool, and also manages to pin you on your belly, with his knee pressing against your nook _again_ , and his thumb in the hollow at the base of your skull. You have a blood lip and you scratched his arms up something fierce, and your head's ringing from where you hit the couch frame on the way down. 

Dave crows in victory and you struggle pathetically, but he's just about got you by the throat, you've lost, and now he gets to claim his spoils. 

Which he does not, he just leans over you with his knee rocking periodically against your nook, which feels nice but does bugger all for you. (Okay you're lying. It feels good in a really humiliating way, but you're never going to admit that. Never.) You twist your head around enough to see what the hell he's doing, and he's looking around the room. 

"Oops." Dave says calmly. He's not even out of breath, and you struggle a little because that's not fucking fair. He leans down and presses his tongue into the corner of your mouth. It's messy as hell but he's on top and his thumb in your skull is painful. 

He presses your face into the rug with his grip on your neck, and grinds his hips against yours. There's a firm-ish lump in his pants that you hadn't noticed before, but before you were rolling around rather violently so it's not really a surprise. 

He lets go of your skull and you prop yourself up to glance around. Somehow you knocked the table over and with it the fruit bowl, which is laying in about fifty pieces all over the floor between the thermal hull and the bench, which hangs out from the wall, making the nutrition preparation area a space that's enclosed on three sides. 

Dave gets off you mostly, but leaves one foot planted squarely in your lower back, and the other on the floor between your legs, rubbing against your nook. Your bulge has room to move now and it's already squirmed out, leaving the exterior of your bone sheathe a sticky mess as well as the interior. 

Asides from his feet, Dave postures himself very specifically, you can't see exactly but you can feel him doing it. Everything goes eerily quiet. As you watch, the fruit bowl flies back together, the fruit joining it even before it's whole. The table and chairs right themselves and then as soon as it started the odd mute on the world ceases and the kitchen is restored to normal. 

"That's better." Dave lets you up, and grabs your sweater and hauls you closer. He's still dishevelled from your scuffle, hair in disarray, your blood on his mouth, but you couldn't tell the difference from his blood. His fucking shades are still on. You go to pluck them off but he grabs your horns again in a flash, and you stop. It's threat enough, the weight he can lean against them with his fingers alone. He kisses you instead, your lip throbs where it's cut, and what blood of yours is already on his mouth is drying, tacky and metallic. He palms your bulge through your pants and you obviously make more noises he doesn't have the cheat sheet for, but you're certain the way your claws scrabble and prick against his arms gives away your desperation. He bites you again, and you swear you're not normally this sensitive, but you moan right into his mouth and you can feel his mouth curve up in a grin, like he's accomplished some huge feat, or something is funny to him. He probably thinks it's cute that you're so easy or something. 

Anger and malice spikes behind your ribs, almost painfully, and your moan twists into an incredibly threatening growl, and Dave honest to god pauses. You hope he's starting to realise what's going on, surely you got enough through his thick pan to make it clear that this isn't going to be a pretty human flushed fling. You want him as your kismesis. And he's been doing a pretty swell job so far with your humiliating defeat at his hands and subsequent knee to the crotch, because it's embarrassing to admit that you were getting off on him grinding his knee into your nook, but he can't back out when the kissing starts. He can't do this half-arsed, because Dave doesn't do things in halves. 

And you’re right, because he throws himself into the kiss again, absolutely fearless of your teeth when his tongue goes past their barrier. He should be, because you could bite it off far too easily, but he isn't, and it's probably because he knows that you know he'll drop your arse so quick if you actually do. 

So he does this right, because the alternative is that he won't do it at all. 

"I don't know about you," Dave murmurs, his voice pitching on a growl himself. He's using your horns to force you a little lower than him so you have to tilt your head up and expose your throat to look at him. He could fly to achieve the same effect, but he's got to know that this is way more true to form. Otherwise he wouldn't be doing it, "but I don't quite fancy getting caught with my pants down. Your place or mine?" 

You think about your room, your unfiltered recooperoon with the nookworm in it which you really need to filter, because it's probably going to start to smell soon, your pile, which is less of a pile and more of a spread across the room. You're not taking him in there. You don't even have a concupiscent platform. "Yours." You gasp, when he bites you again because you were taking too long to answer. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Karkat: go to Dave's room.**

You'd lead the way, but you suddenly realise you don't actually know which room is his. He's pretty secretive, and you're actually certain he's moved several times, and that he halts time when he leaves and enters so no one notices him. 

You're puzzled when he leads you to the end of the hall, right yo your own door, and then absolutely mortified when he opens the block opposite yours. That means he's more than likely heard you whilst you were were pailing yourself. You might just crawl under a rock now. 

The door shuts behind you and Dave's already there, pressing you against it, his hands on your waist, squeezing in the fleshy part under your ribs and gills. It's not an unpleasant feel, it's almost safe, with your back to cold hard metal, and Dave pressed up against your front, and his lips are soft and squishy against yours when he's not trying to bite your tongue out, this is a wonderful discovery. 

Actually, you suspect he's forgotten that he's supposed to hate you. His thumbs smooth over your sweater in two matching arcs, and there is none of the violent possessiveness of earlier in his actions. He rocks his hips against yours almost gently, and sighs lightly when you force your hand to move, one cupping his glutes and the other coming up to push through his hair. He's only marginally taller than you, you notice offhandedly. He's hardly bending down at all. 

He opens his mouth slightly and licks your bottom lip, and a chirrup falls out of them when you let your mouth open. Dave licks at the back of your front teeth a couple of times, and pulls back to appraise you. 

"That was a happy sound, right?" He asks. His hands press tighter for a second before relaxing, and then letting to entirely. He pulls the hood and cape 2x combo off and throws it over the back of his desk chair. 

You just stare at his mouth, pinker than normal, and a little shiny. "Yeah." You don't know what's going on anymore. Your bulge came out in the nutrition block because you were honestly expecting him to nail you to the floor with his human bulge, but now he's acting all soft and almost pale and your hate-boner is incredibly confused. You get somewhat distracted from his mouth when he pulls his shirt over his head swiftly, and throws it at his desk. It lands over the back of his chair neatly on top of the cloak. 

You don't get a chance to look at him before he's crowding into you again. "Your turn." He tugs at your sweater and you surrender it gracefully, along with your shirt. He keeps you on a level playing field, and that doesn't go unnoticed by you. He tosses them at his desk too, but they land on the floor next to the chair instead of on top of his clothes. 

He kisses you again, closed mouthed and gentle, and runs his fingers through your hair to squeeze the base of a horn and you moan and purr and he sways against you. You grab him by the waist because it feels like he's going to faint and you don't want that. Instead of steadying, it just makes him sway more. 

You pull away from the kiss and prepare to carry him to the concupiscent platform to lay him down just in case he actually does pass out. "Are you alright?" You ask. 

He leans forwards again and kisses the side of your neck. "Hmm?" You tilt away from him. You hope he's not affected by any soporifics. 

"You look like you're about to collapse." 

Dave freezes, suddenly marble strong in his stance, and leans back to look at you. "I'm fine," he says quickly, "we should be naked. Why are you still wearing pants." 

You feel your mouth twitch, and a rant bud behind your tongue, but you hold it back. You don't think he is 'fine', but he seems to be lucid and healthy, so you'll just keep an eye on him. He steps away and unbuttons his jeans, and you take that as your cue to do the same. He's in his underwear when you look up next, after kicking your pants aside, and when your eyes travel from his feet to his face, you notice he's still wearing what seems to be a singlet. You're still wearing your binder so it's fair that he gets to keep his singlet. You're just surprised you didn't notice it before. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he's still wearing his fucking shades. 

You're going to scream in a second. 

You also think you might have been a little rough in the nutrition block make outs, especially if he wasn't expecting black-rom of any kind, because his arms are scratched and bleeding, and there are some bruises blooming on his legs and shoulders. Dave notices you looking, and his foot starts tapping and he looks away. 

You don't, you just notice that he's leaner than you, all wiry muscle and pointy bones, and there are handfuls of scars over his stomach and hips and thighs, and you want to tear whoever made them apart, to smooth them over and make his skin flawless again. 

You think you might not be pitch for him. 

You say nothing and just wait for him to speak, because you really have no fucking clue what you're doing, and you want to touch him but he seems incredibly… vulnerable right now, so you just start cooing at him, and he probably has no idea what the noises mean, but you hope he might get the gist. 

His foot is still tapping. 

"I shouldn't fucking care." Dave finally breaks the near silence. 

You stop making troll noises and ask him what he shouldn't be caring about. 

"You don't even understand why I'm freaking the fuck out right now, like trolls have no concept like this, you're all as different as each other with your weird blood and fucking ears and horns, like this isn't something I should worry about with you!" He pauses and you try not to make a sound because there's more there's always more, but you make a high, questioning trill, and the floodgates break. "But this is so fucking weird for me. I don't want you to think I'm like the Dave in the dream bubble because he's so fucking lucky he's dead, he can fix himself, and make himself proper and right and exactly how he should be, and I'm stuck on this fucking meteor and I want to vomit every time I get up in the morning. Why am I saying all of this? You don't need to hear it." 

You're definitely not pitch for him. Your just went red so hard and fast your bulge has some sort of quadrant-flipping whiplash. 

Dave's foot tapping ceases but he starts pacing instead, back and forth, and his fingers are tapping against his elbows, pinching every so often. He's so pretty, the light shines through his hair and makes it almost glow around his head in an ethereal halo. It makes some dangerously weak part of you throb painfully. Maybe you can convince Harley to shrink Dave down so you can hide him away in your thorax without breaking him apart to make him fit. 

"No, it's okay." You don't really know what to say, which is a huge surprise. You also like to think you've matured enough in the last sweep or so to know when you can just say whatever's in your head until the right thing falls out, and when to shut the fuck up. 

You think Dave's actually nervous. He's definitely upset. 

You intercept his pacing and take a hold of his shoulder. You couldn't stop the comforting hum if you tried. You don't want to, anyway. 

His mouth is tight and pulled down at the corners a little, so you kiss him at one, and hope that it relaxes. It doesn't, but you think you know what to say now. 

"Give me your hand." It comes out a little rude and brash, and you want to ask Dave to take you back thirty seconds so you can make past-you slow the fuck down and make an effort with his tone of voice, but Dave just does as you'd demanded, and you bring his hand to the zipper of your binder. He grasps the tab, but doesn't move. 

"Why do you need a binder?" He asks likes he's only just noticed it. The pitiful bastard probably only just did notice it. "You don't have tits." What the ever-loving fuck are tits even? You grab his hand and make him undo the zip. He tosses the material away. "Case in point." Instead of saying something snarky like you want to, you just take his hand again and get his fingers to tickle over your gill slits. They wriggle and unfurl, and it hurts in the way that stretching a cramped foot does, but the filaments, bright red and so delicate and fine, creep out slowly, testing the waters so to speak. They itch a little because they're dry, but you rumble happily in your chest because it feels so good to be able to fill your lungs properly and not overstuff your thorax with things that aren't meant to really go in there. 

"What are they?" Dave doesn't sound disgusted, and he hasn't taken his fingers off the feathery outcroppings of your gills yet, he's genuinely curious. 

"Gills." 

"I though you were like, a landdweller or some shit. Didn't only the what, highbloods? Didn't they only have gills?" 

"In theory, but I'm a fucking freak. I'm so low on the haemospectrum I might as well have been thrown right off the bottom and halfway to the top. I shouldn't have them, and their colour makes me feel nervous and sick, so I pack them under my skin and tie them there so I don't have to feel them or look at them." Dave is still, unnervingly so. "What's wrong with you, it's technically a human thing right? You just feel like it's wrong on you." 

Dave seems to think about it for a few seconds, and nods slowly. "Sort of. You know about the dimorphism of humans, right?" He hardly pauses to give you time to answer. Of course you know. "I got the wrong side of the deal." 

You think you understand, but you don't get why it upsets Dave so much. You kiss him instead of thinking about it too much, there will be all the time in the world for that later, and his lips are back to how soft they should be under yours. He hesitantly feels through your gills, hardly touching them, gentle enough to tickle, and your vocal chords click together and you squirm into him to get away from the sensation. His shades bump against your brow, and you wish that he'd take them off for you, you're absolutely desperate to see his eyes, to see all the flecks and discontinuities in the irises. But you respect that his glasses are as much a part of his armour as his snark and his irony, and he'll disable them when the time comes, when he feels comfortable enough to. You hope it doesn't take long though, because you're still desperate. 

Dave doesn't have to make himself vulnerable to you, and you understand this, because he made himself vulnerable by letting you continue to watch that alternate version of him fuck the alternate version of you, and you were a total jerk about it, foolishly thinking that it didn't matter, and even more stupidly only worrying about the position it put you in. Dave has only been a jerk to you lately because you started it like a fucking wriggler. 

You suddenly feel cold and terrible. 

Dave pushes at your lips insistently, he seems to be relaxing, his fingers moving in bolder and larger arcs, tracing from your gills to your underwear and back again. 

You pluck at the hem of his binder, it's incredibly stretchy, but firm at the same time. It looks a lot better than what you use for yours. You are definitely alchemising something like this later. 

Dave pulls away and turns around and it's a short struggle with the tight vest, but he gets it off, and almost shyly turns back to you, arms again crossed over his chest. He looks at your face intensely, probably trying to gauge your reaction. 

There's not really much to react about, but then you notice the swell of skin under his wrist, and it looks soft and enticing, so you reach out slowly to take a hold of his hand so you can see what he's been freaking out about. 

He's got two mounds of what is probably fat on his chest, and it's reminiscent of Lalonde's, and you are slightly confused because the dream-bubble-Dave didn't have these, and you're certain that human males aren't supposed to have them, but human females, like Lalonde, are. But they look soft. 

And oh so enticing. 

You put your other hand on his stomach and run it up along the muscle until you get to his other arm, and work your fingers under it so you can cup one of the lumps in your palm, and you were right, they're pliant and smooth. They feel almost like your bulge, except not slimy. 

You realise in that moment, that you are more attracted to Dave than you initially thought. 

You squeeze it as gently as you can, and it gives under your palm, and when you sweep your thumb up a little, there is a firmer peak of flesh that catches on the pad of your thumb. 

Something akin to a moan slips out of Dave's throat. 

You kiss him again, with the intent to catch any more noises he makes, because they're just as precious as he is, little derivatives of his emotions and feelings that you want to captchalogue and never share the code for. 

It also went you your bulge, but there was a pit stop at your blood pusher on the way. 

You quite like the mounds on his chest, possibly because you had no idea they even existed, and you haven't had time to obsess over them like you have with ever other stupid little thing about him. The harder nubs have numerous tiny bumps surrounding them, like they're permanently chilled and have gooseflesh, and each time you let your claw catch over them, always careful not to damage Dave, so, so careful not to hurt him, he groans into your mouth like it's some secret he shouldn't be admitting to. 

His hands have dropped to his sides, leaving him exposed, and he leans back eventually, just as you're getting a feel for how to handle the fat deposits, that you can pinch the nubs and tug and twist reasonably hard, and that the harder you pull at them, the louder he calls into your mouth. One of the nubs has a metal stud through it, and it clicks against your claw when you flick it. Pulling at that makes his whole body shake. You're still being incredibly gentle, but they're not as fragile as your gills. 

"Are we gunna fuck, or are yer just gunna play with my tits instead?" He's a little less coherent than usual, his voice taking on what you'd call a drawl, and it delights you, sending a thrill of knowing secret things about Dave right into your blood pusher. 

Oh right, sex. Sex is a thing. You'd like to get to sex too, but honestly, you could play with his 'tits' for… well maybe not forever, but you could play with them until you need to sleep. "Shut the fuck up." You growl. He just smirks at you, and it makes you furious that he can still look pitiable when he's judging you for getting distracted. It's something to do with his lips, you're sure. 

He's a lot more confident walking across the room to the concupiscent platform than he was before, and you kick your underwear off before you can have seconds thoughts about the colour of your bulge, and how alien it will be to Dave, whilst he flops down on the sheets. When he rolls over to look at you, his breath audibly catches in his throat, and he fucking licks his lips. Unbound by cloth, your bulge thrashes in response to the peek of pink and white of his tongue and teeth. 

This guy is going to be the death of you. He hasn't even taken his shades off. 

You stare at him in return, and you want to get your hand back on his 'tits' (your pan is adamant that there is a more technical term for them, but you'll deal with human slang for now). The nubs you noticed by feel are the same pink as his lips, and you wonder if he'll moan if you put one in your mouth. You want to know what noise he'd make if you flick the piercing in the left one with your tongue. 

He reaches out to you and pulls you forwards by a surprisingly strong grip on your hip (he shouldn't be able to grab something that well if he's not wrapping his hand around it), and before you can protest because wow teeth no that's not good, he gets orally acquainted with your bulge. 

The shock of heat blindsides you, because his skin isn't that warm to your touch at all, if anything, he's a little cooler than you, but his tongue flicks at the tip of your bulge, and his teeth are way, way away from the thin membrane, and it feels so fucking good. You're having really kinky sex and all you can think about it is that 'it's good'. 

Your bulge curls under his tongue, and there's a bead of hardness there, and you wonder if it's a piercing like the one through the nub on his tit. 

He grabs your bulge when you try to press more of it into his mouth, maybe he'll suck on it, or it could easily fit down his throat, that would feel amazing, you think, the sensitive ridges on the underside would rub against the cartilage of his throat. He does suck a little as he pulls off, until his mouth is closed and the very tip of your bulge is searching frantically along the seam of his lips for a way back in. 

He slides the hand at the base of your bulge right to the tip, and rubs his thumb over the head. "You're like a right ol' hentai." He breathes. You don't know what that is, but judging by how he goes back to licking the tip of your bulge, sucking on the first inch or two, you think it's a good thing. 

He lets your bulge go at one point, to grasp your thighs instead, and you use the rudimentary control over your bulge to try and knock Dave's stupid shades off his stupid face, and you mostly succeed, and they hang lopsided off his ear and nose, with his eyes shut because your bulge slips over them and fucking caresses his eye what the fuck. You grab it and rein it in. Dave takes them off and folds them carefully, before whisking them away into his sylladex. Your gastric sac clenches. He could've fixed them and you'd've known that it wasn't time for them to come off, but he took them off and you're going to get to _see his eyes_. He takes your grip on your bulge, knocks your hands away, and pulls it up so it's flat against your stomach, and his eyes are still closed what the fuck this is so unfair, he nuzzles along the base of your bulge and his tongue feels along the ridges on the bottom, slipping between the peaks and your pan melts a little because it should be illegal for it to feel that good. 

You try to keep your eyes open and on him, and it's entirely worth it, because he finally, _finally_ opens his eyes. 

"Oh." Is all you manage to say before the thrumming in your chest takes over as primary source of sound output, and you grab him and push him back so you can stretch yourself over his body and rut against him like you're back to five sweeps old and just learning how your bulge works. 

You're leaving genetic fluid all over his leg but you really don't give a fuck, it feels like there's a fireworks show going on in your nook for one, because you have one leg on each side of his, and your nook is pressed directly to his thigh. Every time you rock backwards you rub the bottom edge of your sheathe against his skin, and if that isn't the best thing you've ever felt then you're a horrible liar. 

Your fluids are on his face too, a splatter around his mouth, and there's some around his eye, and you were right, his eyes are the exact same colour as your blood. You want to get lost in them but you also want to get off, and his eyes will always be around now that he's god tier, so pailing it is. 

You kiss him messily, and try to lick up all of your genetic fluid, and once his mouth is clean you kiss up over his nose and to the patch over his eye, but you have to shift and stretch to do that, so you get up on your knees and move so you can tongue over his eye like your bulge did. You want to paint him in your red, but you don't want anyone to see him in the colour. This is a very big issue. He chuckles, but humours you, and shucks his underwear whilst you're off him. Your bulge catches his hand whilst it's there, and he lets it twine amongst his fingers. He doesn't tug at it, thank god, but he does squeeze it lightly, and you nearly lose you balance and collapse. When you're done, you lower yourself carefully, so you don't just squash him under your dense muscle and fat. You fully expect his hand to retreat so your bulge can twine with, or around his, but he keeps his hand exactly where it is, and you sit up and rock your hips against the stimulus. His fingers are far more dexterous than any bulge, and catch on the ridges repeatedly. You hope he doesn't put any fingers in your nook, because you might just embarrass yourself if he keeps this up. 

You're so invested with your bulge, moaning and arching your back, trying to find the best way to allow it to squirm unimpeded, that you completely forget that Dave probably wants some pleasure too. When you realise that you've been selfish, you shuffle forwards and reach behind you to grasp at his bulge in return, but there just isn't one there. 

"Wha-" 

Dave tugs slightly on your bulge, a little harder than you'd consider orthodox, and you forget what you were going to say. Everything kind of goes white for a second. That was definitely not an orgasm, not in the way you know them. You haven't released any genetic fluid, but your nook and bulge feels hot and almost spiky, and you can feel that Dave has let go of your bulge in favour of running his hands up and down your legs, like he knows you'll curl up on yourself if he touches your bulge anymore. You blink the fuzziness out of your eyes, and look down at Dave. He looks incredibly smug. "What?" You mean to snap, but it comes out weak and gravelly. 

"You just made the best noise." He takes a proper grip around the back of your thighs and pulls you forwards. "I wanna hear it again." He keeps tugging at you, until you're kneeling over his neck. "Whoa." He stops pulling and he's got his chin to his chest, staring at your nook, you think. It's dripping genetic fluid onto his tits if you're not mistaken. He turns his head to the side and bites your thigh. It sends tingles up into your nook. You wonder when he's going to fuck you, because there's foreplay, then there's teasing, and then there's what Dave's doing, licking the inside of your thigh where there's a perfect imprint of his teeth, and god, you didn't know you wanted his mouth on your nook before, but you do now. That the thought hadn't occurred to you earlier surprises you, because his tongue was absolutely sinful on your bulge. Suddenly it's a very good idea to get it on your nook. 

You're past kinky. This is uncharted territory. S.S. Nook Explorers, leaving for patrol. 

Dave has the same idea, apparently. "Oh man, I hit the jackpot. Alien Pussy Central here I come." His words mean nothing to you, but he tugs you forwards even further so you're practically sitting on his face. Your position is precarious at best, but he anchors you with a strong grip around your legs, and you are very glad that he does. 

His tongue is rougher than you expected, and drags along the slit of your nook from back to front. Your nook clenches helplessly around nothing. It's too much and not enough all at once. You want something inside you. It's a little embarrassing, perched atop his face like this. You're open and vulnerable, so you hunch forwards and slide your hands through his hair. You try not to scratch his scalp too hard, but you rub it as if your noises aren't showing your appreciation enough. 

Dave seems to be talking to your nook whilst he laps at it, nothing you can catch, but it feels weird to think that he's talking. You rock your hips down, hoping that he'll push his tongue into your nook. He doesn't, but he sucks on the folds, and that makes you buckle forward. You have to throw your arms out to catch yourself so you don't face plant into the wall. 

"Fuck." Your thighs would've clamped down on his head if he weren’t still holding your legs apart. He moans in response and sucks again, higher this time, closer to your bulge. You're babbling now, mostly things that aren't words at all, chirrups and squeaks that Dave soaks up and swallows down with your fluids. 

You press your fingers into your stomach, over your pubic bone to stimulate your seedflap from the outside and that's all you can take before you have another one of those pseudo-orgasms. 

Your other hand grabs his hair and you try to kneel up. It's all too much to let him keep going, and you can't come properly unless you can get something into your nook to poke at the seedflap proper. You think he'd be delighted to see you gush genetic fluid everywhere, gross though it is. 

"Too much, fuck Dave no please." You're too weak to get away from him, and he keeps licking at you, and you scream when he finally, _finally_ , shoves his tongue through the folds of your nook and right into you. It almost hurts now, you're a raw nerve and he just keeps prodding at it to watch you twitch. His teeth press against the stretched membrane of your sheathe, and you're forced to pull his hair to make him stop. Because you've been begging since before he got his tongue into you and that didn't work. 

He lets your legs go and you slide off him and flop on the covers like a large, troll shaped piece of jelly. He broke you, you're certain. You ache all over and your muscles don't work and your nook is still burning with arousal because it's been expecting to dump its genetic fluid and be done with it. 

"Oh fuck." You voice weakly. "This is the end of my life right here," Dave is shifting next you, moving closer. "I've faced many mighty foes, like the black king, for example, and never before have I felt as weak as a crippled wriggler left out in the sun to wither and dry. I blame you, Dave. I'm still hornier than Gamzee's piles. I hope you're happy." Dave has draped himself over your back, his lips at the nape of your neck. His tits are two soft pillows against your shoulder blades. 

"What happens if I tug on your gills?" He whispers. And then he fucking does it. Ugh. If he wasn't so gentle about it you think you'd be dying, but his fingers just trace along the slits and then squeeze the filaments, and your nook clenches again. All the muscles in your body, and the only six or so that can still contract and cramp and make you hurt more are the ones that already hurt the most. You have the worst life. 

You want to roll over and touch him, make him pay for turning you into a begging mess of want and embarrassment. You let him play with your gills until he has his fill, and it only takes a couple of minutes, so you think it's less about him satisfying his curiosity, and more about him being at least half as aroused as you are. 

When you can, you roll over so you're facing him. "Can I touch you?" You ask. You already have one hand on a tit (fuck you hate that word), so you squeeze it just to feel it give under the pressure. 

"Sure." He breathes. You lean forwards and kiss him, the whole bottom half of his face is covered in red fluid, from halfway up his nose down. His skin is pearly smooth until you reach his navel, and the fine scars feel like sand and grit under your fingers, a thousand tiny hairs that can't just be cut off because they're annoying. The hairline scars give way to actual hair, a fine thatch of curls where Dave's bulge should be, but when you dip your fingers through them, there's a nook, so you're not dealing with completely alien territory. 

You go for what feels best on a troll first, carefully pushing one finger as deep as you can into the warm channel and wriggling it around, hoping to find his seedflap. 

"Dude that don't do anything." Dave gasps. He might be gasping because you got your mouth on the piercing through his chest. "You gotta touch the clit." 

You release the piercing. "The what?" 

Dave's hand finds yours and directs your fingers to another nub, up near his pubic bone. Humans are, you have decided, a conglomeration of soft curves and little hard nubs. You rub this particular nub and Dave buckles under your hands, his shoulders and legs coming clean off the concupiscent platform in one jerky motion. 

"Okay, shit, that isn't going to work." Dave relaxes when you take your fingers off him. He casts an arm over his face dramatically. 

"What, aren't I good enough for you?" You ask, slightly hurt, but slightly pleased you can tease him about this. 

"Not one bit. You're the worst. It is you." Dave sits up, and you find you have regained enough bodily function to sit up to. "I'm too sensitive for you to swan dive in there like Ezio into a fucking leaf dump." You are the king of metaphors, and you have no idea what he just said. "How much of a voyeur are you?" 

Usually, you'd shrug and say not much, but if Dave's offering to touch himself and let you watch, you are so down for this. All that comes out of you is a rapid chattering that best describes your think pan's static. Not only has Dave broken your body, but he's officially done your pan in, too. 

Dave is back to nervous when he spreads his legs apart and squeezes the nub on his chest with the piercing. He's flushed in the face, and the redness extends down to his shoulders. The patch of hair at his groin is as white blonde as his hair, and he lips of his nook are parted slightly to reveal more of that pink colour that's perfectly on par with his lips. Maybe one day he will let you sink your bulge in there and fill him up with your red. 

His fingers inch down his body, and you're desperate to see him touch himself properly, to watch him debauch himself in the best way possible. 

The scent of sex is heavy in the air, in much the same way that it has been for the last god knows how long, but when you breathe in deep to take in Dave's smell once more (it's as addictive as sopor or mind honey), there's the sharp acid of bile, too. It's definitely from Dave, because you're not nervous at all. 

Dave's fingers are tapping against his hipbone. You suspect he doesn't even know he's doing it. 

"Hey," you whisper, you lean forwards and kiss him again, "you're so fucking hot, you know that?" Your blood-pusher aches with pity for him, he's either nervous or scared, and you don't want him to feel like that, you just want him to feel good. You worm your legs under his and crook your knees until he's sitting on your lap, one leg on each side of your waist. Your bulge squirms angrily against his glutes. It wants in his nook, but you don't if there's even the slightest chance he'll royally freak out. "Now let me see you touch yourself." 

You don't end up seeing much, because he presses his face into your neck after ten seconds, but you do get ten seconds of him frantically rubbing at his nook. His hand keeps jerking until his whole body goes taut, and his other hand scratches your arm in his spasms. He wails in a pitch that's a lot higher than you thought human males were capable of, and then he just slumps, like a puppet with its strings cut, into your arms. 

His breaths are hot and desperate against your skin, and all thoughts of wanting something up your nook die, with the notion that he's absolutely gorgeous when he comes sprouts up in its place. 

You don't know how to bring up the fact that you’re not done yet, even when he clearly is, until he brings it up himself. 

"That was wonderful and all, but I thought you guys were supposed to spew jizz everywhere like a geyser." 

Your face goes bright red, you're sure of it, and it's your turn to hide in his neck. "I'm not done." You whisper. 

"I can't leave you half baked then, can I?" Dave declares loudly. His hands are coming up to cup your face. "What do you need me to do?" 

You don't answer because you spend a few minutes sucking face, well sucking your fluids off his face, and after those few minutes, his hands on your hornbeds make you forget about the soft press of his lips, and make you remember more about how he's leaning against your seedflap, and how it's not quite enough to make you 'spew jizz everywhere'. 

"Direct stimulation of my seedflap." You manage to get out. You suspect that Sollux has relocated one of his beehives to your chest, because you keep making weird noises and you can't make them stop. They're strange, flushed sounds, declarations of pity that Dave definitely doesn't understand, because Kanaya probably gave him all the cheat codes for a pitch encounter. 

"How?" Dave asks. He digs his nails into the darkest part of your horns. 

"Just stick something up my nook before I throw you out of here and do it myself!" 

"My room, my rules." Dave snaps back. There's no bite in his words though, he's just going through the motions. He gets off your lap and decaptchalogues something. "Now lie back and think of England." 

He pushes you until you fall backwards, and then without any warning, he pushes something long, hard and thin into your nook. You gasp, mostly because it's cold, and it's like a balm to your burning nook, pressing against all the fiery nerve endings. You can't even think of a good metaphor, your nook has taken over your pan and is cutting you off from your greater vocabulary. 

He keeps pressing the thing into your nook until the blunt end of it is shoved right up against your seedflap. 

"There!" You yelp, "fuck right there Dave don't stop." He rubs it back and forth firmly, until you white out with a scream, and your seedflap gives and releases its genetic material, and your bulge gushes its fair share too. 

You are wrung out when you slowly blink your way back into existence. You are a fucking sponge that has had all the water squeezed out of it and left on the bench for too long without use. You're sticky and damp, and Dave still has the thing inside your nook, although it's not jammed up against your seedflap anymore, which is always good. He seems to have finally gotten the hang of the 'oversensitive' part. You look up at him and his eyes are wide in a mixture of surprise, and childlike excitement. 

"That was amazing." He says. He uses the words to distract you from the feeling of the thing sliding out of you. 

"What did you fuck me with?" You ask, when you realise he's trying to hide it. He probably doesn't want to get his sylladex all wet. "Dave!" You say sternly when he refuses to show you. 

He holds it up, and it's nearly unrecognisable, covered in your genetic fluid, but that's definitely, "a pen." He mumbles. Well at least he knows it's shameful. 

He just got you off with a pen. 

What is your life coming to? You fall back and cover your eyes. Your bulge aches as it retracts slowly, back to its sheathe. You should probably wash, but you also don't want to move. 

Dave ends up dropping the pen. You've already ruined his sheets, it's not like it matters, unless it sticks into your gill or something. 

You lift your top arm and groan. You want to feel his contrasting squish and muscles against your body. He gets the hint and crawls into your arms, his head on your left bicep, and his arms folded up awkwardly between you. 

"That was something else." He says to your chest. You lock your arms around him and tangle your legs in his. His hair smells faintly of apples. 

You crush him to your chest. 

"You're purring." Dave mumbles. "And I can't breathe." 

You let the purring intensify, but you relax your grip so you don't smother him. You want to tell him that you were wrong for pushing him and soliciting him as a kismesis, that you don't hate him at all. You also think he wouldn't understand what it means to you, even as, now when you're thinking with your pan and not your bulge, you feel incredibly guilty for giving him the wrong idea, for acting like a total wriggler when he probably saw you as an equal, and not a rival. 

All you manage to croak out of your throat, which is thick with emotion in a similar way to the way it was when you were dragging Sollux's half corpse through the meteor, except you're not as terrified, is a weak; "flushed for you." 

Silence reigns for a long while, and then Dave snuffles and you think he's laughing at you until he tips his chin up. "I was expecting a poem, you know." 

You could give him the full pledge, but you don't know if you're worth receiving it in return. You think you might cry. No, scratch that. You are crying. 

"Oh shit, Karkat are you all right? I didn't realise- I'm so sorry." He squirms until he can get his hand up to pap your face. Then he starts shooshing you. What the fuck? It does calm you down though, even if it's only because you're so shocked that he's just flipped pale on you seriously _what the fuck_. 

Then you start crying twice as hard because you don't want him to flip pale for you, you just want him as your matesprit. 

"Oh god please don't cry, I don't know what to do!" Dave is getting a little panicked, and at a total loss you just kiss him and hope that he understands. 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're freaking the fuck out. 

He lets you keep kissing him until you calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very important link. yes. ==> http://lispetsketches.tumblr.com/post/96153585443/lispets-100-follower-giveaway


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat flails and squawks and lands on his back, and you flatten yourself along him so you can kiss him. Better do this properly, woo him like a master. You probably don't need to because when you press your thigh up between his legs it's hot and damp and his bulge is tentatively poking at your hip, but still, _foreplay_. 
> 
> You skip from his lips to his neck, and you are delighted to find that he chirps like a fucking cicada when you keep at his neck and rub his horns between your fingers. You use your grip on his horns to move his head around as you will so you can nip and suck at his neck. You don't know if he'll mark up so you might as well experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ **I have a gievaway going on Tumblr! get your reblogs/likes in now!** ](http://lispetsketches.tumblr.com/post/98213650098/lispets-100-follower-giveaway)

**Karkat: Be Dave.**

Um, sure. Although you're a little confused, and have no idea what to do. Karkat just came all over your hand because you stuck a pen into his weird alien pussy, declared troll-love to you, and now he's crying. And kissing you. 

And he's crying. 

Did you mention that you don't know what to do? 

You have seen Gamzee and Karkat calm each other down, when Karkat royally flips off the handle, enough so that even your fucked up brain notices, Gamzee just materialises and repeatedly puts his hand on Karkat's face, like a slap but without the bite, and shooshes him. It's weird but you've seen it make Karkat go from screaming his lungs out to fast asleep in minutes. 

You try it, and he does shut up for a few seconds before he's outright bawling in your arms and wow you did not expect that you are officially lost send a rescue team, you'd even be happy to see the murderclown right now even though you're likely to get killed via juggling club for making Karkat cry. That would be a just death, right? 

Then he kisses you and you can do kissing even though it's wetter than it should be. He wants to kiss so you'll let him and his pathetic croons eventually slow and then stop and you think he's calmed down. 

Worst post-sex cuddles ever. 

"Is everything going to be okay?" You ask cautiously. You can't tell if he's about to cry again or not, or what you're saying is even the right thing. 

"Yeah." 

"Can we talk about feelings?" 

Karkat's eyes water up again. You go from sympathetic to angry in point-oh-three seconds. He's not supposed to get upset just because you want to talk about how you feel about him. He's supposed to want to know what you think. Like you want to know what he's so fucking upset about, or even if he's actually upset. Sure he's crying but he might be tired or angry or some other weird troll emotion that you know jack shit about. 

"Jesus Christ dude I'm not going to kick you out like some trashy scum, alright? I want to stay here, I want to cuddle, and then we can sleep and when we wake up I'm going to teach you how to touch me properly without it feeling like you stabbed my cunt, and then we're going to get some food and pretend that nothing's wrong just to piss everyone else off. You're going to wear some fucking red, the brightest, most obnoxious Christmas red I can find, and I'm going to find something grey. We're going to make all the bitches jealous. All of them." 

Karkat is suitably stunned. His mouth flaps open and shut like a fishes', before he responds. "I thought you had flipped pale." 

He what? You blink at him and then butt his chin with your forehead. How fucking stupid is he? There are a lot of things you want to do to this guy, but none of them is a full time job of stopping him from killing people. "Yes. I want to get beaten to death by a fucking insane juggalo for encroaching on your weird ass best-bros thing." And if your post-sex cuddle mood wasn't ruined already, it is now. You squirm out of his grip. "I am going to have a shower, because it looks like I eviscerated someone. You can stay or join me I don't give a fuck anymore. I'm kind of angry with you and I might hit you." You're standing now, and you snatch your towel off the hook on the back of your door. You wrap it firmly around your body from under your armpits down and march out of the room. 

True to your word, you have a good hot shower. By the time you're rubbing conditioner through your hair you're not so angry anymore. You can tell because you've stopped jiggling your knee. And you don't want to hit Karkat anymore. 

You kept the lights off, because it's all a bit too bright for you right now. You keep your shades on in the shower if you're not going to wash your hair, but you're emotional and exhausted so you figured you'd procrastinate and spend as much time as possible in the water. 

"Dave?" The room is momentarily too bright as the door opens and shuts, and then it's back to near pitch black, with only the slight glow from the display in your shades to give you light to see. It's quite enough. 

"Yeah I'm here." You call back. It's Rose. You marvel at her ability to know when you need to talk. But that could be her god powers. You're also glad she doesn't press about the light issue. It scares you to think how she'd react if she saw you naked. You might have to write a formal letter declaring that your body is not a 'get out of heterosexuality free' card. You could make a matching one for John too. 

"May I join you?" You can just hear the rustle of clothing over the spray. 

You could say no, make her use another shower, but she did ask nicely. And it's not like there won't be enough room. There are no cubicles; it's just a room with showers lining one wall like it's fucking middle school all over again. "Whatever. Just keep your hands off the goods. My personal space bubble is like six miles across." 

She still brushes against you when she joins you under the spray, shoulder to shoulder, hands on your toes when she fumbles around for the shampoo. It's actually kind of comforting to have her here in the dark and not making a deal about such a mundane task; you find that the remainder of your bloodlust is extinguished. You're just really tired now. The sigh you heave is apparently enough for Rose to understand what you're feeling and it's never going to cease to be unnerving to know that she can just hear you make one little sound and she knows exactly what you're feeling like what the fuck that's some hard-core shit. 

She pushes the shampoo bottle at you and the cap nudges against your stomach a few times before you take it. 

"I'd very much appreciate it if you could wash my hair for me, please." 

You don't even argue, just squirt out as much shampoo as you think you'll need and start working it into her hair. It reflects the light of your shades just enough for you to see it and not get soap in her eyes as you work. 

"So Karkat finally lifted his ban on interspecies make outs?" Rose asks. Her hair is incredibly silky under your fingers. It probably doesn't need washing, but this is incredibly calming. "That's good. I was hoping that Kanaya and I wouldn't have to sneak around for long." 

"Yeah. That or he never put a ban on interspecies sex, so." 

"I do believe congratulations are in order." She seems to be swaying slightly, but when you push her forwards a little to get her to rinse off, you realise that you're swaying. Fuck she's good. 

"Well it was really great until he started crying and blabbering on about not wanting me to flip pale for him." You suspect that that's not everything he was feeling, and your toes wriggle against the tiles because why the fuck couldn't he just talk to you about it like a normal person so you could reassure him or dissuade his fears or whatever he needed? "He makes really nice noises. I want to record them." You don't say that you want to record them because they fulfil your sensory desires and you don't doubt that you might have found a noise that will both satisfy your stims, and that you won't get sick of. But you think Rose understands. 

Rose hands you the conditioner and a comb. "I suspect that he may feel incredibly inadequate compared to you, or that he may not feel worthy of your attentions as a matesprit." 

She pokes you in the stomach and you get to work with the conditioner. "He has spent his entire life in fear of being culled because of who he is, and his romantic experience is limited to the idealistic parodies displayed in novels and cinematic settings. It is probably a lot for him to take in, and as humans do not distinguish between the concupiscent and conciliatory red quadrants in the manner that troll kind does, it is even more difficult for him to understand that you truly mean well for him, and that it is natural for you to want to calm him when he gets upset." 

You stopped combing her hair about five sentences ago. 

"I lost you, didn't I?" 

"Yeah sorry." You make yourself start combing again before you start swaying. 

"It is no problem. In essence, he is nearly as emotionally stunted as you, and you will need to spell it out for him, and demand that he verbally confer his feelings to you." 

"I tried that already." You drop the comb and push her back under the water. 

Thankfully she doesn't ask you to wash her body, too. "I do believe you may need and auspice to assist you." You step out of the spray and find your towel. It's just out of the reach of the water's spray, where you left it. "If you would like, either Kanaya or myself would be happy to offer our time." 

She finishes washing very quickly, which confirms your suspicion that she's already washed today, and was just using it as an excuse to bond with you. 

She offers no more words, and you're not really sure what to say, or how to express your gratitude to her. You just finish drying and wrap the towel around your body again. You debate the merits of using your god powers to get back to your room, or maybe you have a suit in your sylladex? You check, and there's that gaudy green felt one, the black one and the red one. You pick the black one because it's bigger and you left your binder in your room and never got around to captchaloging a spare. You think you might look a sort of scruffy type of handsome, and think it's good enough to let Rose turn the lights on, and you squint a little against the light before you remember to put your shades on. She looks at you and hums thoughtfully, wrapped in her towel and with her robes folded over her arm. 

With a smile that you'd kill to be able to decipher, she turns and leaves. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Dave: Be frustrated.**

Whilst you appreciate Rose's offer of help, you also never explicitly agreed to it. You still catch her talking to Karkat about it. 

Well you don't physically catch her talking to him, but the air vents on the meteor might as well be from some stupid movie, because they just carry sound so damn well. The acoustics should be impossible, but it's not. Or it wouldn't happen. 

You'd kill to just understand their tones of voice. 

"-didn't think that you even cared, Lalonde." That's Karkat. He sounds normal so he's probably angry. "Or that you wanted to get all ashen over your moirail and his…” Karkat pauses at that and it's silent Dave for a few clicks before Rose speaks. His what? What does Karkat think of you? 

"This is why I'm getting all ashen over you, Karkat. You don't even understand your own feelings." 

Karkat snorts and makes some sound almost like a sheep. You shouldn't find that hot, but all of his alien noises tweak a string between your ears and your metaphorical dick. You should leave. You think this is supposed to be a private conversation, but you want to know what Karkat has to say. 

"I do understand how I feel!" Karkat's gotten sharp and snappy, and he snarls. According to Kanaya's cheat sheet of alien noises, which you were joking about, but now it totally a thing; that was an angry sound. 

"Would you care to elaborate or explain the full extent of your feelings for Dave? He is quite frustrated and confused. And whilst I should not tell you this without his express permission, his brain is incorrectly wired and he cannot understand social cues and emotions like you or I." 

Yeah, Rose shouldn't've said that. You've made it this far by pretending to not care, using your shades to hide behind and observe and plan, but that doesn't matter any more, does it? 

"I thought I hated him, alright?" Of course Karkat's yelling. It's almost too loud. You debate the merits of pacing to dampen the sound. The churning of your gut, the desperation to _understand_ , wins out over your comfort, and you stay put. You completely miss the fact that Karkat just ignored what Rose said. "But then I dragged him into that fucking bubble and I shouldn't have! Because I don't want him to hate me, but he's so fucking angry with me. He won't even look at me now!" 

That… that stings. You're not sure if the implication that you don't like him, or that he regrets starting things with you hurts more. And as for not even looking at him, you haven't even seen him around the last couple of days, and if he has been there you were more than likely busy, or lost in your own head, which is far too easy for you. 

"Karkat, you need to be rational here. I can guarantee that Dave is not upset about engaging in concupiscent relations with you." You don't know how rose's voice is still totally calm and even when Karkat's making all of these little noises, mostly clicks and growls and occasionally those sheep noises. You want to intervene and take him away so he will only make those noises for you. 

They make the discomfort of their loud voices against the contrasting dead silence of your corridor a lot more bearable. "I spoke to him shortly after the two of you pailed, and whilst he was finding it difficult and annoying to understand why you were distraught after you finished, he did express, in his own roundabout way, that he found the whole experience pleasant, and that it is something that he would like to engage in again." Rose shouldn't be talking for you here, but you can't say that she's incorrect. She's bending your words a little, but she's not lying. 

~~~[---}~~~ 

**Dave: wonder what to do next.**

You know that for trolls, wearing another troll's colours is akin to a declaration of belonging. You don't quite get it, it's a really silly custom but you've seen Kanaya get incredibly flustered over Rose wearing green lipstick, so it's important to them. You want Karkat to know that you are actually really fond of him, and that you'd like to keep him for a very long time. 

If he'd get his head out of that awesome alien pussy of his, he might actually get that and everything would be so much easier. But you are going to have to take the difficult road because Karkat is actively avoiding you. 

Despite Rose's advice that you overheard, and you still don't know if you were supposed to hear it or not, Karkat has not come to talk to you. Rose has told you to be patient with him, and not to search him out, but you have grown to like the taste of his company, and it's hardly been days but you actively miss him, from his little nubby horns that feel like velvet under your fingers to his gossamer gills, and even the sharp little claws on his toes. 

You miss making him coffee, because he'd always forget that he was supposed to be a perpetual rage machine and stop and smile into his mug when he thought you weren't looking. You like his voice, loud though it is, and the little noises he makes, because they're distinct and vibrant, not like the slurred ramble that Terezi can put out. No, Karkat makes his noises deliberately, just like he makes all of his other sounds. 

Oh and then the way he gets immersed in what he's doing, his books especially. He twitches and makes faces and little noises as he reads, and it's delightful. You've wondered if he'd ever read his books to you, because those Alternian symbols are complicated and you don't have the desire to learn an effectively dead language. Maybe he'll read it in Alternian and you could use a clip of that for your stims. The foreign language combined with his voice would get you through anything. 

You're sick of waiting for him. You miss him. You might have stolen one of his jumpers. It's a little loose on you, but it fits. 

You are wearing his sweater and a pair of underwear when he knocks on your door a few days later. Took his bloody time. You haven't put your binder on because his sweater is baggy enough to hide the swell of your breasts, and you're glad you didn't put it on, because your chest is tight enough just seeing him. 

"Hey." He says. He's tinged pink like a human on his cheeks and neck and ears. He's not making any noises. That makes you sad. "You're." You watch him like a hawk, and hope you might be able to guess what he's feeling. His eyes widen as he takes in what you're wearing. "Why the blistering fuck are you wearing my sweater?" He just went from greyish pink to full on red, and a little squeak comes out of his throat. You could live to do that to him. 

"Because I am yours." You have zero sense of shame. Score one for autism. "I wasn't joking about making you wear red." 

Karkat makes this gurgling sound, and the grey of his eyes, the grey that's lanced with flecks of red, is totally eclipsed by his pupils. "Fuck." He draws the word out. 

You grab his wrist and pull him into the room before he embarrasses himself in public. You're a little jealous, you'll admit. You don't want anyone else to know he's fallible like this. He's still bright red and you don't think you've ever wanted someone so much, not even when you were indulging him in the kitchen all those days ago, and he gasped and chittered when you pinned him to the floor, or when you thought you wanted Terezi, but that's paled compared to this. You wanted Terezi for the bragging rights, and because it pissed Karkat off. You want Karkat because he's gorgeous and fits nicely against you and he didn't make a fuss about your body or your scars. 

You couldn't ask for more. Well, you could ask to touch him again. To have your head between his thighs again, make him moan and shake above you and clutch at your hair. 

Your eyes flick from his face to his crotch and back up again. If you asked would he let you? 

"Let me eat you out." You say, just as he blurts an apology. 

You spend the next fifteen seconds staring at each other. You did not expect an apology, and you interpret his silence as him not expecting that. 

"What?" He asks. You think you were pretty clear on that one. 

"Your apology is irrelevant. I already forgave you. Let me put my head between your legs and put my tongue in your cunt." 

"Nook." Karkat might explode in a second from embarrassment. You think his blush is a direct result of embarrassment. You know that normal people don't ask after sex so flippantly but you want to hear his noises more. Bro's upbringing wasn't the best either in terms of you learning about what is and isn't okay to talk about. "It's called a nook." 

But he didn't answer your question! "Yeah cool can I lick your nook again?" Also you already knew that. 

Karkat splutters and wobbles past you so he can sit on the bed. 

"Is that a yes?" 

"That's a 'I think we should talk first'." Karkat is picking at your sheets carefully. 

"There's nothing to talk about." Really, what do you need to talk about? It's a little late now, your anger wore off days ago and you heard enough from his conversation with Rose. "But yeah go ahead." 

"I just want to apologise for being a total nookwhiff, and for being very unclear with my intentions towards you." He's dragging this way out past what he needed. "I tried to flirt with you like a potential kismesis because I thought you were throwing spades at me, but I saw that because it was what I wanted to see, not what you were doing. Then I upset you by again, misinterpreting your actions and allowing myself to jump the gun, as it were, and-" 

You clamp your hand over his mouth. "Shut up you useless idiot. The apology train is only so long. I think we ran out of cars a little while back. You fucked up, I accept your half-thought apology, all is right in the world." You pry your fingers away one by one in case he starts talking again. He keeps his lips sealed. When he doesn't speak you shuffle closer and put your face right up in his grill, nose to nose. 

"I uhh," Karkat's voice has dropped low and quiet, and he's buzzing slightly. "I just wanted to say that I really like you and I wouldn't be adverse to you putting your-" he cuts himself off there, and you know what he's asking but he's squeaking and he doesn't want to say lewd things he is the fucking adorable-est. 

"Nah." You whisper. "You started this you gotta see it through to the end, or you'll end up having to sacrifice all your mangrit to make up for this grievously unjust sentence." 

"I would like you to put your tasting muscle on my nook." He manages, all clinical-like. That makes it easier for him, which is not what you want. 

"In my words." You pull away when he leans in to kiss you, and you hold him back so he can't hide in your neck. 

Karkat looks away from you and mutters something. You squeeze him because you didn't catch that. The says something in Alternian and you squeeze harder even though it probably sounds nicer than him stuttering his way through English slang. "I would like you to- to- fuck, Dave do I have to?" 

"Nah I was just teasing. Get naked. Like the day you were born, hatched, whatever. You need to be undressed, starkers, in your birthday suit." You let that one get away a little. 

Karkat scrabbles to undress, and he doesn't even hesitate to get right to skin, apparently over his trepidation of showing his gills. You know that isn't true, you've been working on your dysphoria over your body for nine years. It doesn't just magically go away, but he trusts you enough that you won't make a big deal over it, and you trust him to do the same with your body because last time he was enraptured and fuck- 

You trust him. And he trusts you. 

There is a hard little lump behind your collarbones that you suddenly find hard to swallow past, because you don't know what you did to make him trust you like this, you definitely didn't earn it; you've been a total dick to him lately because you were mad at him. You don't deserve his trust. 

Fuck. 

Karkat is naked now, just a streak of grey and blotchy red. The tip of his tentadick is peeking out from under a flap of skin, and the insides of his thighs are actually slick with fluids. If you didn't know it was natural for him to secrete it, you'd think he was bleeding somewhere. 

"Holy shit." There's no way you can remain composed. "You look like a needy little slut." 

Karkat outright shivers and whines in his throat. "I haven't gotten off since we- it'll be really messy this time." 

That's really hot. You tell him. 

"I fail to understand how you can feel my body temperature from all the way over there." God bless trolls and their weird hermaphrodite junk and their ability to only take human turns of phrase literally. In that respect you're very similar to them. 

"How much jizz is there going to be?" You're really curious now, because last time there was hardly any, maybe a cup, if that, you'd been expecting the whole buckets thing to come into play. It was enough to make you alchemise a new set of sheets, but replacing a mattress is a little harder to explain to Rose. 

"A lot." 

You reach out and touch his gills because they're painted targets on his ribs, vivid slashes of red for your fingers to hone in on. He shudders in your hands. If there's going to be a lot of mess, you could just do this in the shower. 

"Come on." You press your hands flat against his sides so you can pull him with you. "We're doing this in the bathroom." 

Karkat digs his heels in and starts protesting, people can catch you, it's uncomfortable, he'd have to walk down the hall naked. 

You eject your cape from your sylladex and it launches into his face. That's never going to stop being funny. "Bundle up Karkles, I'll sling a sock on the doorknob." 

"Why would you do that?" He's not fighting you anymore, rather walking along beside you calmly. He's wrapped the cape around himself like a Roman toga. You kick the door to your room shut behind you. 

"It's a human cultural thing." You don't expect him to understand, and you don't know where it came from or where you even learnt it because Bro never did it at home. If he had someone over and you walked in on them fucking then it was your loss. 

Loss of mental capacity and eyesight. 

"Okay. That's the stupidest fucking cultural norm I have heard of. Why wouldn't you just put a hunk of rotting meat in the nutrition block for your lusus?" 

That's really fucking gross. "You're kidding, right?" 

And oh look there's the bathroom. You shove him inside and strip him of the cape quickly, you hang that off the doorknob. You should get privacy now. The others have learnt not to come in here when your cape's hanging off the door like that. You strip Karkat's sweater off and kick your underwear aside. His eyes flicker to your chest and you think he likes your breasts? He couldn't take his hands off them last time so he probably does. 

You're prepared this time, you 'borrowed' some punch cards from Rose, so you actually have something worth fucking him with this time. You also pursued some information about troll anatomy. You're somewhat jealous. 

Point is, you know what you're getting into here. It's not like swimming when Bro literally threw you in the deep end and waited for you to make it to shore. No, this time you've got a life raft and everything. 

If life rafts are seven inches long and made of rubber, that is. 

You sit near one of the drains and pat the tiles next to you. Karkat is slow to sit with you, but the moment he's down you leap on him. Restraint isn't natural to you. You like to take what you want, although you've learnt to control the impulse in public because that shit just isn't cool, man. 

It's nice to be able to not have to worry about appearances when the only other person to see you be a complete tool isn't likely to tell anyone else. 

Karkat flails and squawks and lands on his back, and you flatten yourself along him so you can kiss him. Better do this properly, woo him like a master. You probably don't need to because when you press your thigh up between his legs it's hot and damp and his bulge is tentatively poking at your hip, but still, _foreplay_. 

You skip from his lips to his neck, and you are delighted to find that he chirps like a fucking cicada when you keep at his neck and rub his horns between your fingers. You use your grip on his horns to move his head around as you will so you can nip and suck at his neck. You don't know if he'll mark up so you might as well experiment. 

"Those aren't handlebars you idiotic nookstain! They're well developed weapons capable of gutting you before you can blink!" He goes on a bit in Alternian and you tip his head forwards so you can reach them with your mouth. Yes, the most dangerous of little nubby, blunt weapons. 

"What happens if I suck on them?" You ask. Karkat doesn't stop talking but he doesn't seem to protest, so you latch your mouth around one and steadily put pressure on the base with your teeth. He shuts up abruptly and goes very still. His chest is buzzing slightly, like he's making noise that you just can't hear. You let him go and he sort of looks at you, his eyes all cloudy and dazed. 

"You right there?" 

Karkat nods slowly, and his bulge isn't just tentatively poking your hip, it's squirming across your belly, the tip occasionally dipping into your belly button, almost catching the piercing every so often. 

"Holy shit I broke you. You're so out of it. Like, baked kind of thing. I wonder if trolls can get high?" You plan to test this theory. "Baked like a fucking pie." You snigger. Karkat is a little more normal now and he smacks your belly weakly. 

"Fuck you." He growls. 

"Next time. Promise." You drop your supplies out of your sylladex and scoot back until you're between his legs and you can lift his hips up. You tip him up until he's balanced somewhat precariously on his shoulders, with his knees hooked around your neck. "Don't move, I won't drop you." You won't drop him so long as he stays still. 

"Okay." He breathes. His stomach appears even more pudgy when he's curled up like this, but all his stocky muscle and build still doesn't hide how he's panting nervously, stomach fluttering as he breathes. His hair is flopping away from his eyes, pooling on the floor beneath his head. It's damp and cold under your knees, and probably under his shoulders too, so you should get to work before he bitches about it. 

You lick along the folds of his nook once from back to front where his tentadick emerges like an overgrown, prehensile clit. Hella fucking cool. Karkat's legs shudder around your ears, and you hold them tight so he doesn't slip. 

The next time you drag your tongue through him he makes some broken sound, and gasps a pathetic 'yes'. You grin against his leg for a second and press your open mouth to him, and work your tongue as far into him as you can. His bulge strokes over your face, nudging at your lips and nose and it knocks your shades clean off your face, which you manage to catch in your sylladex before they hit the ground. Your mouth is full of the slightly sweet taste of Karkat's sticky red fluids, you can feel it oozing down your face where his bulge leaves streaks, and it's covered your chin, and you could live with your head between his thighs because he tastes so much better than your own fluids, the slightly bitter and tangy, you're glad that you don't really have the option of doing this with a human, because you don't know if you could deal with that. You've been spoilt by this experience. You've been turned to xeno-cock for life. 

You don't care, really. 

Karkat is actively squirming now, his fingers brushing your knees desperately, and you take your mouth off him and bite his thigh. He'll slip in a minute if he's not careful. 

"Dave, stop fucking teasing!" 

You thought you were doing a very good job at not teasing, if you were teasing, you'd be trailing your fingers over his nook as lightly as possible, maybe occasionally slipping a single finger in as far as you can reach before pulling it back out. These sloppy make outs with his junk is not teasing. 

"I am taking personal offence at that." You tell him. "I'm not teasing." Karkat stares at you, his eyebrows drawn in. The rumbling coming from his chest sets off some primal part in you that turns your blood to ice. It suddenly occurs to you that he may be in an awkward position, but that doesn't stop him from being stronger and heavier than you. He could probably snap your neck with his thighs if the mood struck. 

That's really hot. Karkat’s really hot. Like all of him. That’s an official, Strider Statement. No take-backs. 

You kind of want to sit on his bulge, with he way something just jolted through you, somewhere behind your navel. "Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck." You dive back in again, sucking at his nook as best you can whilst you displace your balance reaching for the dildo you alchemised. 

It slides into Karkat's nook easily, and he squeaks and his eyes widen, because he probably couldn't see what you were doing. The noise settles into a rolling pur that the muscles in his thighs twitch along to, and you slowly start to fuck him with the toy. 

He's gorgeous like this, breath hitching and face tinged pink under the grey. There is a click occasionally when his horns hit the tiles, barely audible over the other noises and the squelching coming from him. 

"Oh god Dave." Karkat won't ever tell you that it's good, but he's not complaining so it's not bad. "Just hold it- fuck push it right there." You still your hand and the toy and he whines. "No don't stop!" 

You know he wants you to press the toy as far into him as you can, because that's what you did with the pen to get him off, but you have one more surprise for him. From your brief look-up of troll anatomy, you think he'll like it. 

A thin tube hangs from the end of the toy, and until now it was an annoyance, but you decaptchalogue a bag full of saline water and you think it's worth putting up with the annoyance. 

"Hold on two seconds, okay? Just trust me." 

Karkat's heels knock against your back. "That's hard." He grumbles. You hope he's trying to tease. 

The tube plugs into a port at the corner of the bag, and you glance down when you squeezer the bag, and watch water creep along the pipe. "Okay, ready?" 

"Fuck you." Karkat snaps. His face is red now, and he's shaking all over and chirping, and you know he's ready. You push the toy into him as hard as you can, right up against his seedflap, and squeeze the bag under your arm, against your ribs. Water rushes along the tube and into the toy, and Karkat screams and curls in on himself, and his bulge dumps bright fire truck red syrup all over his chest and face. There's a lot of it, yes, buckets, at least two litres, fuck you're going to die. 

You empty the bag into him and slowly withdraw the toy, and before you can even drop it you press you mouth back to his nook to hold all the fluid in there. 

You scoot back until you can set him flat on his back, and you're splayed on your front on the tiles, and he pats your hair lazily. You just lave your tongue over him in slow, broad strokes; he'd be much to sensitive to deal with much more, until he pushes you away. 

You wipe your face on your arm and crawl up his body to kiss him. He doesn't shy away, just lets you feel through his once feathery gills, that are now just gluggy with troll-jizz, and lets you push his lips around with yours. 

If you hadn't broken him before, you definitely have now. He wasn't even this soft and complacent when he was that alternate him in the bubble that started all of this. 

You pull away, partly so you can look at him but mostly because you're really fucking horny, so you reach down and arrange things to your liking. His bulge is still out, so you lay that against his belly and straddle his waist, and you were hoping this would work because getting the angle to rub one off like this isn't easy without being face down in the mattress and both hands between your legs, but you know that it's going to work when you roll your hips forwards, your clit against his bulge, and he growls a warning, he's probably too sensitive, and the adrenaline rush from the fear topples you over the edge. 

You shakily slide off him and sit by his hip for a while, trying to catch your breath. You look Karkat over, and he still seems relaxed, painted red from chest up, and he's still retaining the water. 

You reach out and push your fingers into his belly, just above where his pelvis should be, and he comes alive all at once, curling up into a ball and snarling at you like you kicked him or something. You jerk your hand away before you lose it. 

"Don't." He growls. He cups his stomach protectively with both hands, drawing his knees to his chest. It can't be comfortable, but he's managing. 

You think it's time you weren't you anymore. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Dave: Be Karkat.**

Dave exceeded your expectations, honestly. And they were pretty high to begin with. And he was doing perfectly, despite overworking your sensitive bulge, right up until he tried to forcibly empty your genetic sac. 

Useless fucking twit. 

"Don't." You are having trouble holding what is likely just water in, you can't stop growling at him. You're vulnerable and weak and he's flipped a switch in the back of your pan, in the instinctual recesses, that makes you ache for your sac to be filled to nigh on bursting, for reproduction. It's scary. "Don't do that." 

Dave goes from neutral to worried in seconds, and he is nervous when he puts his hand on your knee. "Sorry." He mumbles. 

What a night. Dave just apologised to you. You're not going to rub his face in it though. You pity him too much. You unwind when you fell comfortable to, and Dave doesn't try to touch your stomach again. You sit up next, and then stand quickly before the pressure in your abdomen becomes too much. "I need a pail." You tell him. 

"It's just water." He says. "Why not just use the drain?" 

He has a point, but that's very humiliating. 

He stands up next to you and turns the water on. "Can I do that for you?" He steps under the spray and he's looking at you like he's a child expecting candy. 

You can't say no. 

The water is pleasantly cool. Looking at Dave feels too intimate, so you look at your toes instead, at the streaks of genetic fluid that's washing off. Your gills bubble happily under the water, and it's a relief to not have them clogged with genetic fluids. The toy he used on you is on the floor; it's grey and looks squishy. It's smeared with your fluids. 

"May I?" Dave just has his palm against your stomach, just so he can rub it gently. You look up at his face and grab his elbows. 

"Yeah, okay." 

He presses on your belly until your seedflap gives, and the water floods out of you. It's in intense feeling, one that you definitely haven't felt before. There isn't much, but it washes down the insides of your thighs in hot streaks. You pitch forwards and moan a little into Dave's neck. He just moves his hands from your belly and wraps them around you and you are thankful for the support. The water is tinged pink, and you can imagine that it's Dave's colour marking you. It's incredibly intimate, almost too much for you to handle, but Dave strokes your skin softly and kisses what of you he can reach and waits for you to stop shaking and chattering. 

"That's really hot." He whispers. 

The two of you stay in the trap until you're clean and not red. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**== > Be somewhere more comfortable.**

Dave all but dragged you back to his block when you were both dry, and you thankfully don't encounter anyone, although you suspect that Dave might have messed with things a little, because he's giddy and laughing when he pulls the door to his block shut behind the two of you. 

He crowds into you, almost melting into your back, and he makes you waddle over to the concupiscent platform. Your knees hit it and you go down, and Dave twists against you so he lands beside you, not on top, and he's _still laughing_. 

You roll over to face him and he's so pretty with his red eyes and too blonde hair and the red in his cheeks. You wonder if he sees all your weirdness like this. 

"Dave." You whisper. He clamps his fingers over his mouth to stifle his giggles. "You know this doesn't fix everything, right?" 

That sobers him up. His hand comes away from his mouth and he nods sadly. "Yeah." He paps you on the face, and you know he doesn't mean to be all pale, but it still makes you queasy. "Rose will help us." 

It's your turn to nod slowly. Yeah, Rose will help you, with a side serving of snark and slaps. But she'll help. This might turn out okay. 

~~~[---]~~~ 

**Karkat: Be happy.**

Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot all done  
> now take note that IDGAF that they're way OOC   
> also I have thrown in (nearly) every headcanon for Dave and every headcanon for teen/pre-adult-moult Karkat I have.  
> no regrets  
> only 3am writing stints

**Author's Note:**

> IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW TO DO THE COURIER NEW FONT IN AO3 PLEASE TELL ME IT'S KILLING ME.  
> Also I have a giveaway right here; http://lispetsketches.tumblr.com/post/96153585443/lispets-100-follower-giveaway


End file.
